Ceasefire
by WarHorse72
Summary: OFFICIAL SUMMARY INSIDE. The greatly awaited sequel to Guardians! Advisable to read that first. ON HIATUS
1. Prologue

**Official Summary:** Six months after the Battle of Stalliongrad, the world is teetering on the brink of all out war. As Equestria scrambles to rearm and readjust their weapons and tactics for modern warfare, the Hippogryph Matriarchy begins eying up its neighbors, trying to decide who would be more delicious to take a bite out of; dog or horse. Meanwhile, up north, Canida is on the verge of complete civil war, so panicked are they in going up against two powers, one of which is ruled by goddesses. Prime Minister Mation, however, has a plan to tip the scales with the help of disgraced and demoted Captain Ulrich Boxer, mad for revenge. Twilight Sparkle has been irrevocably changed by her time on the line, and is plagued by visions and nightmares, distancing herself from her friends, which is destroying the close bonds of the Elements of Harmony. To top it off, Short Stop is coming to Ponyville with an entire battalion to defend the town, and everything in the world just seems to be spiraling out of control. Who will suffer when it all comes to a head, and who will finally come out on top?

* * *

><p>(Alright, here we go again boys and girls! May I introduce, as the creator of this marvelous masterpiece, the sequel to the wildly popular <span>Guardians<span>!

Now, a few things to address. Due to the length of chapters combined with the amount of time I have, you can expect a new chapter once every week, on average. That's not a sure thing, however, so don't hold me to it!

Secondly, I've had a few people ask me about Season Two: will I be following it?

The answer is yes and no. Some episodes will be heavily edited, while others written out completely altogether. Obviously, episode one and two -never- happened. Other than that, I will be following the episodes as they come out, meaning that you'll get chapters pertaining to present events...mostly, if they release quick enough.

Anyway, enjoy the new story, everypony, and let's hope that this series is like a good wine; getting better with age!)

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Prologue**

_ Canterlot burned before Twilight's eyes, flames reaching up, high into the black sky beyond, licking hungrily at the very life of Equestria as Princess Celestia tried (and failed) to escape the destruction of the city, managing to flutter many hundreds of feet into the air before the alicorn's burning wings could no longer hold her up, and Celestia fell with a scream into the inferno. The violet unicorn stood there, jaw open at the tragedy before her, trying to come to terms with what she was seeing. Shadowy figures moved inside the streets and burning buildings, and the snap and crackle of gunfire accompanied by the boom of cannons reached her ears. She stumbled forward, finding herself on a downhill slope towards the city that took her from a stagger to a proper walk to trotting until she was finally galloping towards the city, screaming her lungs out as she tried to reach the buildings. Her parents were in there! Nopony was getting out, so that meant they were still in the city, along with thousands of other innocent ponies!_

_ Suddenly, an obstacle rose up in her way, a camp of some sort, and she almost screamed in frustration before she spotted the silver shield emblem of the Equestrian Royal Army on the side of a battlewagon. Canterlot was saved! It would only be a matter of time now before the Kingdom's troops rolled in and took it back! But as she trotted through the camp, she realized that her hopes were being dashed in front of her. Wounded trooper ponies were being pulled away from the frontlines, placed onto steamwagons to take them away from here, while artillery fired from fortified positions and Pegasi flew overhead, away from the city. The Army was retreating!_

_ Up ahead, she saw a tall stallion in the green coloring of the Royal Army's summer camouflage battledress. His body armor was scorched, his grey coat caked with ash and soot, but as he turned around, Twilight recognized him instantly and stopped dead, a chill running down her spine._

"_Short!" she screamed, eyes wide as she stared at the colt. "What are you doing here?"_

"_We've got nowhere to go, Twilight," he replied, his expression deadpan as another pony nearby fell to the ground, blood splattering everywhere. "Nowhere to fall back to."_

"_You can't leave!" she screamed, tears in her eyes, almost in his face now, though she didn't remember moving. "Equestria needs you! I need you, Princess-bucking-dangit! My parents are in there, and so are other ponies' families!"_

"_Nowhere…" he whispered, as if he hadn't heard anything she'd said._

_She pushed past him, actually able to move her legs again, leaping over a sandbag wall and continuing down the hill. Abruptly, a shell screamed overhead, and the position she'd just left disappeared in a fountain of dirt and blood and metal, and she opened her mouth again to scream-_

Only to find herself snapping upright in her bed, eyes wide and gasping like she'd dashed all the way to Sweet Apple Acres and back. A hurried glance around showed that she was safe, in her room above the library, no burning cities, no fleeing monarchs, no wounded soldiers or dying ponies. It was only a nightmare.

Another nightmare.

Twilight flopped back down, still breathing hard and feeling the adrenaline pounding through her veins. It had been like this almost every night for the past four months, ever since she thought she'd gotten over the aftereffects of the battle. But, as it turned out, when the nervousness and mood swings went away, the nightmares began. Horrible, vivid things where she saw various parts of Equestria burning to the ground and close friends and family being blown to pieces before her. Several times, she'd come to Ponyville in her dreams only to find ash where buildings once stood and skeletons where her friends had been. A few times, such as tonight, Canterlot. But more and more often, she'd been going back to Stalliongrad in her mind, reliving the horror that had started it all.

Twilight groaned, rising from her bed and trotting downstairs to the kitchen, determined to find some way to rest. The clock's hands told her it was four in the morning. Perfect, she thought as she levitated some cow's milk out and poured herself a glass. Now she would also be sleep deprived, as well as avoided by most of the town.

Being a war survivor was not good for one's health.

* * *

><p><span>Seaddle Naval Port<span>

Royal Navy Shipyard (Reactivated)

6 Months after the Battle of Stalliongrad

Captain Jayce Cobalt groaned, hanging his head over the technical section before him. The things he did for his kingdom and monarchs, he thought. Like trying to memorize everything in the new Royal Navy Manual of Nautical Warfare, which happened to be the thickest tome he'd ever seen and seemed to be filled with more words than he'd ever even heard of.

Deciding to take a break and clear his head, Jayce shut the book with the flick of a hoof, turning and striding to the window to look down on his new child and think for just a moment. Some might consider him crazy for calling the multi-ton ship below him his foal, but he had done the same for his own Harbor Watch boat, even though that had been a veritable plank on the water with a single small engine and no armaments whatsoever (to be honest, it at least had a hull, and could reach a respectable speed, but it was nothing compared to the PT boats coming back out of retirement). But here, below him, was the true wonder of his life.

The Equestrian Royal Navy didn't have the numbers required to maintain a fleet quite yet. Why Princess Luna had decided to start with a capital ship, a dreadnought of all things, was quite beyond Jayce, but he didn't argue with the Commander in Chief. The story of what had happened to the Wonderbolts thanks to General (now Flight Lieutenant) Spitfire's screw-up was still fresh in everypony's mind, the Air Force especially, and the new Pegasi recruits were being pushed through the wringer to make sure that an incident like that didn't happen again. In fact, all officers the rank of captain and above in the Army had been forced to go back to High Command for a refresher course in tactics and regulations, and were only now just returning to their units after their 'reeducation.'

Jayce cast such dark thoughts from his mind and gazed down at his new beauty with fondness in his eyes, tracing over her massive skeleton and the plates of her hull that were being riveted in place. The Hippocampus Type Escort was a new kind of ship in more ways than just date of completion (only a month away, thanks to capable unicorn mage workers next to earth pony muscles). Since the Army Harbor Watch had been the least staffed sub-branch of the Royal Army, the Royal Navy had suffered from a severe lack of personnel, even with the surge in recruitment following the Battle of Stalliongrad. As a result, there was a large projected hole in the Equestrian ship lines no matter what plans were set down by the new High Sea Lord Nash Lake, head of the entire Royal Navy.

Lake had been a general of the Harbor Watch during his career, and to date was one of the few soldiers in that branch to actually see combat thanks to a small incident with overeager griffon fliers several years ago. As such, when Luna had begun hunting for new commanders, Lake had proven himself several times over, and the Princess had promoted him to take on the responsibilities of the new Royal Navy.

Unfortunately, even the salty, temperamental stallion's tactical brilliance couldn't help to avoid the obvious truth; with Equestrian naval tactics focused around supporting air combat, there would never be enough destroyers and frigates to protect the capital ships, carriers and transports on the water. So, Lake had done the next best thing.

While the Royal Navy were to still possess cruisers in their current form and battleships (not many, of course), the escorts and transports would take on a new shape. Hippocampus Escorts were both frigate and destroyer, small and fast yet bristling with flak batteries and depth charges to destroy aircraft and kill submarines. Hippocrene Assault Carriers hauled both Air Force fliers and Royal Marines in range of the shore for beach and inland assaults. It was the hope that, with these new hybrid ships, the few available ponies could be distributed more effectively and the Royal Navy could still maintain its minimum numbers of ships needed to go to war.

Or so the theory went, Jayce thought, grimacing. In the drydock "graves" next to his ship (the HMS Valiant) were three other Hippocampus Escorts (including the HMS Hippocampus, first of her kind) joined by two Champlain Type Cruisers (the main muscle of the Royal Navy, only outclassed by the Marizona Type Battleship) and a full four Hippocrene Type Assault Carriers. Seaddle's shipbuilding yards had been deactivated centuries ago, and were renovated into the new industrial port. Unfortunately, with the need for warships once more, the factories were now forced to use the commercial port while the nine ships under construction practically swamped the now-crowded shipyard. If it weren't for the efficiency and tireless work of unicorn magic, the entire project might have taken years to accomplish, but six months later and this port was close to producing her first brace of ships.

Jayce gazed down lovingly once more at Valiant, shimmering in the morning sun. The earth ponies and unicorn workers crawling over her hull had only just begun today's work, but already they had actually managed to bring the hull up to halfway done from its previous status of one-third completion. Remarkable. Whereas most shipyards elsewhere in the world possessed enormous cranes that inefficiently hauled steel and other supplies into position, Equestrian ports used mages skilled in telekinesis, able to shift heavy loads three times as quickly as any crane. And let's not forget the dragons, where they could be found. Few though they were in populated areas, dragon workers were powerfully strong, and even provided their own welding equipment for the large plates of armor on the hull (though less than a thousand had actually stepped into the entire Equestrian military when the call had gone out).

It was thanks to this efficiency and speed that the Royal Navy even had a chance against the dreaded Hegemonic Fleet, which possessed almost two hundred vessels at present. Jayce shuddered at that thought, realizing just how up against the wall they were. Projections for Royal Navy ships completed by the end of next year would only be up to about fifty, nowhere near enough to go head-to-head with the dogs.

In other words, Jayce thought, the tense peace had better hold for at least another few years, or else the waters of the Arcana Ocean stretching away to the north would belong to Canida when the war began.

* * *

><p><span>Kodiak, Western Faunterra<span>

Geisterbjorn Underground Headquarters, Einherjar Range

General Krastos was tired.

He reached up, touching a paw gently to his empty eye socket as he grunted, feeling the ache once more. Phantom pains, his healers had called it. Something that would go away in time. The problem was, it had been years already and the pain had not yet faded.

The grizzly left it alone, replacing the eye patch as he stood, jaw stretching as he yawned. It was time once more to go forth and rally the troops, try to stir up the resistance. Not exactly something he looked forward to, as he was a horrible speechmaker. The Geisterbjorn resistance seemed to follow him simply because of his tactical prowess and veterancy in the Dominion Ground Forces.

The problem, he supposed, was that bears weren't very social. Even when the Matriarchy had come knocking in retaliation for the blockade Kodiak had erected, the bears of the Dominion had been bickering amongst each other. Even as their enormous super-heavy tanks were burned by fast-moving griffon Airborne and their cities bombarded by Mobile Airbases, the bears had refused to get along. Clans, Caves, families, even friends on a personal issue always had something to argue about in the Dominion. And, thanks to their infighting and separations, they'd lost the war within a week.

No, bears didn't get anywhere when they talked about their problems. In a way, the preferred to slug it out, go claw to claw and maul their opponents to prove themselves right. A bit savage, sure, but at least that would get things done. Even among families, the occasional bite was made to ensure cubs were kept in line, and it never hurt for long. Powerful though they were, bears were tough enough to recover quickly and aware enough not to seriously injure each other.

Krastos sighed again, shaking himself out of his ruminations and what-ifs as he shifted his weight around, pushing the curtain "door" in front of him to the side. What greeted him, oddly, was not his personal attendant Rylar, but a tall, thin creature, stretching higher even than Krastos himself, almost to the ceiling cavern. The bear raised an eyebrow as his gaze traced over the various parts of his new visitor, observing that each limb was that of a different creature. This thing was a chimera of some kind, a disorganized mix of so many things that it shouldn't even be possible for it to be standing, much less smirking at the general.

"Who are you, creature?" he snarled, one hand going for the large axe at his belt, a tool more than a weapon, but highly effective for splitting griffon skulls. The birdbrains constantly sent assassins after him, but rarely actual troops. Apparently, he wasn't much of a priority.

The beast smiled wider, bowing at what Krastos assumed to be its waist. "Fear not, General! I know you are suspicious of me, but I come in peace, I can assure you! The name's Discord, and I have a proposition for you of truly…chaotic proportions!"

Krastos halted his paw on the haft of his axe, watching this Discord carefully. He didn't seem to be armed, but he knew nothing of this beast. Who knew what natural weapons it possessed?

"Where is Rylar?

"Your lackey?" Discord snorted, straightening and examining the claws on one hand haughtily. "Don't worry about him. He'll stop burping up bubbles in about an hour or so."

"What did you do?" Now, Krastos did draw his axe, brandishing it at the abomination with no quaver in his arm. Bears were the largest nationalized creatures in the world, and his axe's head was easily the size of an earth pony. He'd have no problem at all chopping the insolent being to pieces.

Discord shrugged. "Does it really matter? He'll be fine, he's not injured. Let's get past the barbarian-like growling and weapon swinging, shall we? There are bigger things to address at this point than simply swinging our arms around and displaying like two bulls competing for a cow. Important things like why I'm here for example."

Krastos paused again, his axe still held up. Reluctantly, the general admitted that Discord had a point. If it had wanted him dead by now, surely it would have killed him, wouldn't it? And Rylar was still alive and (hopefully) unharmed, and he was a large bear, a former infantry soldier before the Dominion fell.

"What do you want?" he growled, still not letting the axe fall. Discord laughed, pacing around the cavern, his serpentine body seeming to bend at unnatural angles as he turned and writhed.

"It's simple, General. Geisterbjorn wishes an end to Matriarchy rule of Kodiak. Correct?"

"Yes. But that's fairly obvious."

"So it's definitely not my point. But you are not suited for this task. You have many fighters, sure. Strong, tough, dependable, well-armed and-"

"Get to the point, Creature!" Krastos snarled, ready to drop the yammering beast. Discord paused, putting his hands up to placate the bear, a smirk still on his face.

"Of course. You need new tactics. You got your asses handed to you in your brief spat with the feather-heads because you depended too much on static defenses and heavy armor. So, to fight against the griffons and their airpower, I propose this instead; outside, I have several P-21 Anti-flier guns waiting with my…associates, as well as many more Mk. 4 Gunframes. Quite mobile, especially for your bears. Everything you need to fight a war on the Legion."

Krastos finally let the axe and his growling hackles fall, frowning more than snarling now. A stranger appeared out of the blue with so many weapons in hand, ready to help a rebel movement that the world had practically forgotten? The whole situation stunk of wrong, but Discord was right. Geisterbjorn needed better weapons, or they would just be throwing away their lives.

"Canid and Equestrian equipment. High end stuff. But what about ammunition?"

Discord chuckled, scratching his chin again with a sly look on his muzzle. "Don't worry, General. I've got plenty of rounds, and more where they came from. I'll keep you supplied for years."

Krastos snarled once more, his one eye squinted in frustration. "But that means we'll only be relying on –you- to deliver us the supplies! Who –are- you?"

"As I said, I am Discord-"

"No! That is simply your name! Who do you represent? The Kingdom? The Hegemony? Why do you want to help us?"

Discord smirked again, finding amusement at this stubborn old fool's paranoia. He was sharp, at least. Not willing to give an inch in negotiations and more than willing to use intimidation to get information. He placed a hand on the General's shoulder, leaning in to smile and say, quietly "General, I am my own benefactor. My men and I have a purpose, and Kodiak plays a large part in it. These weapons were…given to us to pass on to you, and I am simply the middle man, the grease between the wheels of the transaction machine. You should really be thanking Equestria and Canida for the generous gift. Me? I'm the delivery boy, but I'm not getting paid. I want a free Kodiak, and so does the rest of the world." He reached out his other hand, grinning wickedly. "So what do you say, General? You've got the world on your side and someone who can get you their assistance without risking griffon interception. It's just not something to turn down lightly…is it? Whaddya say?"

* * *

><p><span>Central Canida, Muttreal Territory, North of Quebark City<span>

Hegemonic Army 101st Armored Regiment, 5th Company "Ironsides"

Training exercise against the 251st Mechanized Infantry Brigade

Snow. Snow stretched away before him, rolling hills and banks like some kind of unbelievable ocean, its waves and spray replaced by sprays of…snow. He'd grown up with it, but now that he looked out and saw just how –much- was out there, he knew that his view of the world was barking small.

He stood in the cupola of his Silverback main battle tank, field glasses in hand as he gazed out at the hills beyond. The forests around them were the only interruptions to the snow, a constant reminder of the places where infantry could hide and snipe at him. Unlike Equestria, perpetually wrapped in a shroud of magic, Canida had no interaction with the changes in their environment, and nature moved all on its own, not caring a whit for the nations that lived on it.

"Hey, Sarge! Get your ass in here, the drill's about to start!"

Sergeant Henry Fangson glanced over at the hatch next to his own, the helmeted head sticking out of it turned in his direction. The poodle's eyes were hidden behind her visor, but he could tell she was staring right at him crossly, waiting to give the order to move out already.

"Right, sorry. I'll be right down, button up."

With a clang, his gunner sealed the hatch, scraping the handle to turn the lock. In case of a gas attack, a Silverback MBT was environmentally sealed to keep out all poisonous fumes. Though there was an international ban on chemical weapons, Canida still had entire warehouses filled with them, and it was known that Hippogryph and Prance did as well. All three powers manufactured the stuff, ready to use it against their enemies. Still, just the threat of retaliation was bad enough to warrant a little discretion. Gas was nasty shit.

Fangson let the field glasses hang around his neck, pulling his own tinted visor down into position. The sheet of plastic over his eyes did more than just keep the sunlight out, however, it also protected his upper face from flying debris. It fit over his snout, and he felt the edge through his fur. The Jack Russell Terrier gave the landscape one last glance before he too descended inside the metal monstrosity, slamming and locking his own hatch over his head before he seated himself in the commander's chair.

The T22A1 Silverback main battle tank used a crew of four dogs to pilot it. A commander, a gunner, the loader and the driver. If one member fell, the others were cross-trained in how to quickly take their station, meaning that unless the tank was on fire or had thrown a tread they would keep going no matter what was thrown at them. Which, thanks to the thick armor swaddling the tank, didn't seem very likely. Canida's last war, the invasion of Zebrabwe, had involved entire battalions of these tanks storming over the plains and hills. The Silverback was truly the high end of armored warfare.

"_This is Hammer Actual to all Hammer units. We are mission launch for Objective Cardhouse. All callsigns advance to Line Delta and report."_

"This is Hammer 4-4. Solid copy, Hammer Actual," Fangson replied through his headset, quickly setting to work fiddling with the various settings of his tank's video sights. Thanks to a basic if reliable parabolic periscope mounted in its frame on the front of the turret, the crew could take in the scope of the world outside without risking their own heads to enemy fire. The gunner and commander both had the same view, but the driver had to rely on another set of sights from a periscope on the front of the tank's chassis. This was to ensure that the entire tank could still remain operational and each crew member worked as independently as possible.

Outside, the other elements of his tank platoon burst from the trees. Three more Silverbacks, thundering across the snowy wastes, powder flying up from their treads and their hulls almost indistinguishable from the white snow thanks to the painted winter camouflage. Well, save for the red symbols on the sides, emblems of the Hegemonic Army and Canida itself, necessary identifying logos. Smoke launchers, coaxial machineguns, extra equipment and tools all jutted out from the curved turret and boxy chassis, emphasizing how Silverbacks could stay out in the thick of it for weeks at a time.

They joined the rest of their company, and Fangson grimaced at the sight of their accompanying platoons. A group of T13A6 Heavy Tank, AKA the Grizzly, were hauling ass up the middle, escorted by a second group of Silverbacks. The Grizzlywas slow as frozen molasses, and was a relic from another time, an era when steamrolling tactics consisted of driving over trenches instead of facing other tanks and infantry fighting vehicles. Though only slightly larger than the Silverback, the Grizzly carried far more armor and a larger main gun, resulting in a tonnage half again as heavy as the tank Fangson preferred. Grizzlies were a dying breed, and even now were being considered for decommission. The Army could only afford to field their best tanks, and unneeded designs were being scrapped left and right from all branches to make room for new ones.

The tank company spread out again, the Grizzlies (struggling to keep up at the company's casual pace) at the center with the Silverbacks arranged on either side, main guns forward towards the horizon. Fangson knew that there would be a dozen other squadrons like this plowing across the snow towards their destination; the 251st Mechanized Infantry Brigade's defensive lines, where they'd set up base for a 'capture the flag' match. It was up to the 101st to breach their lines and reach the flag, all the while hoping they didn't take too many casualties. There was another way to win, however. If one side could kill off half of the other, that unit was considered broken and the match would be won. However, while that meant that the tanks had to take out almost a thousand infantry and dozens of supporting light armor, the dug in troopers would only have to dust one hundred tanks.

"Enemy APCs sighted in the trees ahead," reported the poodle, Corporal Nicole DuGrowle. She was quite an able gunner, a marksman with the Silverback's cannon and sharp eyes to pick out targets. Unfortunately, she also had an attitude problem, one Fangson never bothered to correct. Unchecked aggression was exactly what was needed in his crew, especially with the world in its current sorry state, and there was no way he was going to quash that now.

DuGrowle was part of a minority known as Prench Canids, a way of speaking and acting that mirrored the cultural influences of the neighboring Prench left over from when Neighpoleon had kept the entire continent under an iron hoof. The stallion had been a military genius, but when it came to ruling an empire, he fell disastrously short. As it happened, however, the ancient occupation had brought their lifestyle to the dogs, uncivilized and living in various clans, and Prench customs had attracted a few clans to their ways. DuGrowle was a descendent of one of those clans.

"Loader, paint up," Fangson ordered, and the loader hauled out one of the specialized training rounds, sliding it into the breech before snapping it closed with the clank of moving machinery, the Scotty dodging to the side and crying "Paint up!" Private Terry Aberdeen was a good soldier as well, a bit nervous at times but he had plenty of reason to be, for when that gun fired the breechblock snapped past only a few inches away, able to pulp an unwary dog in a single strike.

"Choose your targets Corporal, but don't fire until we get the order."

She growled lightly in irritation but otherwise gave no sign of dissention, her muscles tensing and ready to stamp on the trigger pedal. Meanwhile, their dachshund driver Thomas Lebay held the tank on course, his speed matching the rest of the formation and his paws constantly making minute corrections to stay in their tank's lane. Lebay never talked much, but Fangson never considered that a bad thing. Thanks to their time together he knew that if the private at the controls suddenly started up, there was something bad right in front of them, and would either order evasive maneuvers or even a retreat.

The major came over the line again from his command tank, Hammer Actual, meant to move tank platoons around quickly. Tank commanders led from the front, directing more by eyesight than what radios and maps told them. While this did mean that armored commanders were more up to date on threats in the field, sometimes entire companies fell out of contact with each other, and a battalion could suddenly became a patchwork of tanks simply advancing to survive. Fortunately, radio strength was strong in the Canid wilderness, and there would be no errors now. Plus, this was just training.

"_All callsigns, enemy vehicles and fortifications spotted. Remember, this is a training exercise. No cannons on the infantry, no retributions or rollovers. Proceed with attack, you are cleared for firing on all targets."_

As Fangson gave the order and felt the Silverback shudder beneath him, watched as the paint shell splattered a bright red on the side of the Hydra APC ahead, listened to the coaxial medium machinegun hammer out dozens of rubber bullets at the dug in infantry, he contemplated how the rest of the world even remotely considered that they had a chance against such an amazing machine of war.

* * *

><p><span>Over the Horsandie Coastline, Southern Prance<span>

Equestrian Royal Air Force (RAF)

4th Air Division, 16th Fighter Wing, 7th Squadron, Dispatched from Royal Cargo Ship _Endeavor_

Routine Patrol of Coastline

They weren't allies. Not really.

Prance had long ago separated from Equestria, back when the War of the Moon had raged all over the southern continent and the kingdom looked to fall under the domain of Nightmare Moon. Fearing for their lives and safety, hundreds of ponies had journeyed north, to the relatively unexplored wilds, and founded the Prench Republique, a new government run on the consent of the ponies to be governed rather than presided over by a hereditary and all-powerful leader (aside from Neighpoleon, who'd seized power in a military coup centuries back). A crazy form of government, the Pegasus decided as she peeled into another turn, gazing down at the landscape whipping past beneath her. While most of Equestria had moved their seasons from summer to fall, Prance was still on the northern hemisphere's natural cycle of late winter, Spring just on the horizon. There would be no Winter Wrap-Up here, however. While Prance hadn't forgotten the importance of magic, they refused to use it on nature around them, in keeping with their paranoia about unicorns.

Flight Lieutenant Rainbow Dash tilted her wings a little more, keeping in formation with the rest of the wing. Her blue flight suit kept her warm in these cold climes and the ballistic armor encasing her torso, legs and the helmet on her head kept her safe, her helmet's eyeshields locked in position to keep her eyes from watering up. The Royal Air Force was still mostly using the same equipment as they had when they were the Royal Army Sky Corps, but they were branching away as fast as a sonic rainboom. For example, the Air Force had more officers in it than any other branch, owing to the fact that only officers could actually fly on sorties, while the enlisted were either ground crew or couldn't fly (crippled Pegasi usually filled these ranks, but the Air Force interestingly had a few earth ponies and unicorns. An odd thing, to be sure).

But Rainbow Dash –could- fly, and as soon as she'd left Fort Campbit's Basic Training, she'd gone into Officer Candidate School at Cloudsdale Flight Academy for two entire months, where she was pushed to her limits in order to discern if she did have what it took to challenge Hegemonic airplanes. Flying machines, while a relatively new development that gave the dogs a dominating edge in warfare against living fliers, were still susceptible to weapons fire, and a fast enough Pegasus could still outmaneuver them. Unfortunately, the selection process was brutal and vicious, with very tight margins of ability and an instant drop from High Speed Maneuvers Training if a single sequence was failed more than four times. While Dash had been able to meet and even surpass those expectations, the rest of her class hadn't been so lucky, and dozens of Pegasi would never be in the Bomber or Fighter programs, forced to either take a job in ground crew or (more often) simply shifted to Attack Support (strapped with a recoilless pack and told to help out ground units), where they would essentially be soft, vulnerable targets for Canid fighters. And while she'd passed through training easily enough with little to no hiccups, it would have been nice if her mother had at least warned her what was in the lineup for the recruits…

"_Alright, Team,"_ said Dash's Squadron Leader, an orange stallion named Green Gem. _"Prench fliers up ahead. You know procedure, descend and give them the right of way. Remember, we're here to help."_

Boy was that off the mark, thought Dash as she fell to a lower altitude with the rest of her squadron. After all, the Prench Republique had a much larger, more technologically advanced military than Equestria, even though they had a third of the Kingdom's population. If anything, Equestria needed the help of their separatist cousins. Hence why they were here, and why the RAF was flying patrol sorties next to the Armée de l' Air de Prance while negotiations were underway in Prairie, Prance's capital city.

But they weren't allies. Prance had stayed separate for so long, they'd become practically another species of pony, with different behavior, culture, even a different language rather than the world-accepted Common. They were as alien as the dogs, practically, thanks to their own militaristic tendencies. More than one Prench officer Dash had met was convinced that the Republique would hang Equestria out to dry and look to their own needs. After all, they'd fought Canida to a standstill half a century ago and survived, and their technology had only progressed thereafter. While it was obvious there was no love lost between Prance and the dogs, it was quite obvious the northern ponies would rather not get dragged into another war. Especially alongside the southern royals.

Overhead, the black uniforms of the Prench flier patrol soared overhead, streaks across the cloudy sky that paid no attention to their blue-clad counterparts below. Dash could feel their haughtiness from down here, and it irked her enough to almost make her break formation and chase after them, simply to demand what their problem was. But, at the last minute, her training took over, and she maintained the formation with a sigh, her wings still twitching to fold into full pursuit mode. But they weren't here to start a war with Prance, and they weren't here to fight Canida…yet.

But Dash still felt that burning in her gut, the yearning to engage in battle. She'd been trained to wage war against the enemy, and there was no enemy to fight yet. The anticipation was killing her, and she'd already been out here for six weeks. If she didn't get some action soon, she was going to go stir-crazy.

Might just shoot up one of those Prench patrols for sheer snottery, she thought sarcastically.

* * *

><p><span>Frontier Desert, Southwestern Equestria<span>

Royal Army Weapons Testing Facility "Fillhalla"

Conducting Field Tests for "Crusader" Prototype

"FIRE!"

The gun on the machine boomed, sending a shell soaring out and smashing into its target, barely a millisecond before the high-explosive charge detonated, blasting the thick wooden stand to splinters. For several seconds, only a dust cloud remained, obscuring vision and keeping the test from proceeding. The silence reigned, interrupted only by the rumble of smokeless coal engines and the light pattering of debris still dropping occasionally. Everypony nearby waited with bated breath, hoping that, maybe, their test results would be conclusive.

Finally, the dust cleared, and the results were there for all to see. The target, in the shape of a large bull's-eye, was half destroyed, the top sheared away to pieces…but the bottom was still intact.

"Clear the range!" called an Army major from his observation post of sandbags, chewing a wheat sprig as he watched the soldiers scramble to their positions, disarming the guns and turning off the engines, checking for damage and anything out of place. As had happened previously, the main gun had almost ripped itself from the moorings on one of the four machines, and that meant that particular vehicle would need to be taken back in for repairs while the others were reinforced to ensure it did not happen again…for the fourth time.

A bunker sat away from the range, and inside it two Magic Corps unicorn engineers scribbled furiously at their notes with levitating pencils, double checking their calculations and adding to the complex equation on the blackboard behind them. The prototype was supposed to be fully-functional and ready for mass production in the rebuilt Stalliongrad factories by now. The volume wouldn't be high, of course (less than half of the Industrial District had been rebuilt), but at least these vehicles could get out there! Of course, the real reason they were scrambling to accomplish their goals was due to the large alicorn behind them, her coat the color of a moonlit night sky and her equally blue mane and tail waving though there was no breeze to be found. Rumors still persisted of what she did to those who displeased or disappointed her.

In truth, however, Princess Luna was feeling more frustrated than angry. She had every reason to be, after all. This particular machine, dubbed the "Crusader" was her own design, built from the ground up based on data collected on armored warfare committed by both Canida and Hippogryph (and there was an astonishingly large amount of data to be found, as well as captured Silverbacks in the possession of Zebrabwe from the ill-fated invasion) and correlated to build a superb fighting machine. Indeed, just by looking at the data it was superior to the older Knight battlewagons in everything save for speed. But, for some reason, the new Crusader Main Battle Tank simply refused to cooperate. Though the prototype had been built a month ago, there had been issues with the suspension, the smokeless coal engine and the steering. While those problems had all been tempered out in a few days' time, this issue with the ordnance (shells built specifically for its new, larger battle cannon) had already halted final checks for an entire week. While the gun fired just fine, the high-explosive shells themselves were defective, misfiring or not detonating. Armor-piercing sabot rounds were working brilliantly, and had pierced through the hull of a Knight quite easily, even if it had some difficulty on the captured Silverbacks.

She sighed, teeth grit as she muttered "I have to figure this out, and soon. If Tia's right, things are not going well in the diplomatic circle…" Poor Celestia was working herself ragged trying to hold off the coming war, but talks with Canida and Hippogryph weren't getting very far, and there was now even word that the Matriarchy might even consider war with Equestria. If that happened, they were doomed, and it would be up to the Princesses to take to the frontlines and potentially stop the invasions. But not before many losses.

Equestria's first tank, the Crusader, was supposed to be their answer to the fabled Silverbacks of the Hegemonic Army. With a larger fuel tank, thicker armor, a bigger gun and treads, the Crusader was a completely different beast of machine than the Knight. But it had come with problems, too, problems that were holding them up. Luna looked down upon her tanks, watching as each one backed up to the machine shop for checkups and routine maintenance. One another of the shells had backfired in the cannon, almost destroying the gun itself, and now they were reinforcing the turret mounts on all of them, just to be sure.

More delays. More holdups. More time wasted. And time was one thing Equestria did not have in abundance.

* * *

><p><span>Canterlot, Royal Capital of the Kingdom of Equestria<span>

105th Royal Army Regiment

Victor Squad, 4th Company

Short had visited Canterlot a few times in his life, mostly during his short-lived baseball career with the Savanneigh Sharks, and one word came to mind every time he arrived; gaudy. Even after being here for the last six months, retraining and waiting to be reinforced, he still got a sense that the city might be a little –too- overdecorated. Now, standing in front of a café and waiting for his lieutenant to hurry up and get on with whatever she was doing inside, he glanced around at the packed, shining boulevards. Compared with the pearlescent buildings and cobblestone streets (the golden street signs were a nice little bonus as well) the four-wheeled steamwagon behind the sergeant seemed crude, boxy, its smokeless coal engine hissing under extreme pressure.

"Foals are easily amused, aren't they?"

Short glanced to the side, frowning at the little grouping of foals nearby, about four fillies with two colts they'd dragged along. The diminutive huddle was currently a few dozen meters down the street, talking mutedly amongst themselves and staring at the steamwagon. Short smiled a little, turning to his assistant squad leader and saying "They are indeed, Azure. Don't you remember being that way?"

"No, actually," the corporal replied, an eyebrow up and a blank look on her face. "Whatever do you mean?" She immediately took on an air of innocence, glancing around as if interested in the hustle and bustle of Mane Street.

Short snorted, turning away and shaking his head as he turned back, banging on the side of the wagon with a hoof. "Hey, Handlebar!" After a pause, the hatch opened and the driver, a Sergeant T.E. Handlebar, stuck his head out, eyes furious behind his busy moustache. "What?" he said, eyes narrowed at the infantry stallion.

"Hey, we've got some curious foals down the street. Was wondering if you might introduce them to Bernie." Handlebar grinned (partially hidden, of course) and ducked back inside. A split second later, the wagon's air horn sounded, and the foals down the street yelped in astonishment, literally scrambling over each other to escape the metal monster and its vicious, high-pitched howling. "Thanks Bernie," Short said, grinning as he stroked the machine's name, painted on her flank in red lettering with a heart in place of the I's dot.

"_Next time, just call me on the dang radio,"_ Handlebar grumbled in his headset, and Short paused as he realized that he was indeed wearing the radio. It consisted of an earmuff attached to a band stretching over his head, covering one ear and allowing him to still hear the outside world, fitting comfortably under his helmet. Though he'd retrained with it in several squad, platoon and company based exercises, the griffon-built radio set always seemed to slip his mind, and he paused before responding "Uh, right. Sorry," into the microphone extending from the earmuff to in front of his mouth. A Hippogryph radio company named Airwings Radio Communications (ARC for short) had gladly offered their services to Equestria after the Battle of Stalliongrad, and thanks to their discount the Kingdom had been flooded with these brand new radio sets. Gone were the clunky radio packs and inefficient hoofsets that never seemed to get the job done right. In their place, these ARC headsets were distributed to every Army soldier, boosting communications and expanding squad mobility.

Sergeant Short Stop turned his head towards the café once more, wondering what the hay was keeping the lieutenant. She was a good officer, for sure, but her tendency to socialize with other ponies meant she often forgot about the ponies she'd been traveling with. In this case, the squad was supposed to be heading back to the High Command Barracks, having just been tested with new tactics of mechanized warfare. The lieutenant had, on the way back, wanted to stop by the café to 'check on something for a minute'. That had been an hour ago, and Short was becoming more and more irritated. Typical officers, he thought. The Royal Army had too long played host to socialite political figures in their command ranks, and Lieutenant Roseluck was only reinforcing the stereotype.

Short sighed, grunting as he leaned against the side of the wagon. The squad was technically still on-duty, but their weapons weren't needed here, especially in the middle of a crowd. Despite the publicity the military had received, the traffic still gave them a wide berth, and Short was sickened by the amount of wary looks they were receiving, more now thanks to the horn. He should have thought that through, he decided, but that didn't change the fact that they were getting a hay of a lot of negative attention.

"Doesn't help that we're going to be protecting their flanks when war breaks out…" he muttered, pawing at the ground irritated. The green sleeve of his summer camouflaged battledress hugged his forelegs, accompanied by the olive green armor and helmet. His ballistic goggles were strung over his helmet's brim, but other than that his war gear was kept to a minimum, weapons and equipment still stashed inside the wagon.

"Don't they realize some of us are suffering alongside them?" came Azure's bitter tone, and he glanced up at the large mare, taller and stronger than him. Ever since she'd received news that Hoofington's population had gone missing on the night of the Battle of Stalliongrad, her temper had taken a nosedive, and anything under Celestia's Sun could easily get her mad enough to see red. After all, her cousin Beatrix had gone missing, and neither she nor her brother Jayce could find her. Which meant quite a few things, seeing as apparently 'Trixie' always made herself known wherever she went.

"Easy Corporal," Short muttered, glancing at their collection of new recruits, standing around the wagon to get some air like him. "Let's not scare the newbies, alright?"

Even as Azure took in a deep breath and nodded, Short could tell she was still harboring her aggression. He could only pray that Colonel Di'ac got back to the regiment on time from training next week. The sooner they got out of this retraining and into serious garrison work, the better.

* * *

><p>The map was stretched over the wall, covered in lines and symbols. Checkmarks dotted the paper here and there in green and blue checkmarks, but the most common were the bold red Xs over most of it. Equestria was covered in them, from the western griffon border to the eastern coastline, from the swamps of Savanneigh down south to the factories of Stalliongrad in the north.<p>

He wasn't there, or there, or even –there!- Her Royal Guard and Luna's RAIC soldiers were searching every secretive, hidden place possible! True, he was a magic spirit, but there was no way he could have simply vanished without leaving a trail of –some- kind! She'd studied her prey for ten years, after all, all that time ago, and he had always left some kind of obvious hint!

But now, -NOTHING!-

**WHERE WAS HE?**

* * *

><p>(Give me an R!<p>

Give me an E!

Give me a V!

Give me a-

Screw it, you people know what to do!)


	2. Chapter 1: Dream On

(Okay folks, here we are again! I know, I know, it's a little late, but real life shit kept pounding into me last week, so I needed twice as long. I promise, however, that the next chapter will be awesome! How can I guarantee this? I won't have to write about mushy, awkward feelings next-...oh wait, yes I will.

So, regardless, I will still have a new chapter, on time, next week for you all, rest assured!

And now;

**Responses!**

Numbah six-sixtysix: no, no references to C&C here, not made purposely, of course. But the Kodiak Dominion is supposed to be based off the Baltic States and Scandinavian nations in language and culture, even it does have to regress a little to viking state.

The Socialist: maybe it'll be a three-sided war, maybe not. And Germany did it twice while outnumbered and surrounded, so there's at least -something- to admire about the German and Nazi Empires.

SakuraAyanami: if you want more details, simply read below.

Wing Zero 032: to be honest, when I first started writing, I had no clue who Krastos was. One of my friends (another brony, yay!) recommended this name for a bear, and I went with it. Imagine my surprise when I found out he's actually a character (albeit fan-made!)

Trekkette: hopefully I can get you to squeal some more. (thinks on those words) Wait...

Nightmare Luna: trust me, you won't like -everything- I have planned here.

Turdy1: good suggestions for the Prench names, but they'll be Pegasi, same as Equestria. No planes for ponies!

Rohan Bernett: I have no idea what you're talking about...(whistles innocently)

Maddog3060: that's...alot of questions. Why don't you PM me? Though my knowledge is well-rounded in all things warfare, I know more about ground-pounding than riding the waves, so I may indeed be getting some things wrong. It'd be good to have a naval expert in my corner alongside my Air Force man (winks at Turdy1).

AbyssShade: your wait is over!

And now;

ON!

WITH!

THE!

SOLDIERPONY!

(you didn't think I was going to do anything cliche now, did you?)

* * *

><p><strong><span>Ceasefire<span>**

**Chapter 1: Dream On**

One Week Later

Heard on radio station 133.7 "PON3 N01S3"

_"-and that was the Cutie Mark Crusaders with 'Find Yourself.' Ahh…girls, please don't send me another record. I've got the other six copies already. Oh well! You three'll find what you're all good at eventually! And now, this report from our good friends at the War Effort! Ahem…'Negotiations with the Prench government between Prime Minister Hoovieu and Councilor Affero of the Equestrian Diplomatic Corps broke down once more as the Prench leader was quoted as stating Equestria's true purpose in its military buildup was simply the Kingdom panicking and overreacting to an understandable threat of diamond dog infestation, and not a cause for international alarm. Hoovieu went on to say that the Canid Hegemony was no real threat to Prance and their enormous military would keep them safe in the unlikely event of invasion. "Frankly, I would be surprised if they got past the Alpine Light Brigade, not to mention the Maginhoof Line," the Prime Minister went on record to say. "Should Canida even attempt it, they will sincerely regret even thinking of the attempt quite quickly." Councilor Affero was not available for comment after the end of the diplomatic session.' Well, if that doesn't take the cake, folks. Here we are, with Canida knocking on our door, and Prance doesn't want to help. Well, you can't say we didn't warn them! Now, let's hear some music!"_

* * *

><p><span>South<span> Arcana Ocean

One-hundred and fifty miles northeast of Stalliongrad shoreline

Royal Equestrian Navy, Arcana Fleet, Submersible Corps

Kelpie Type Submersible, coded, S-40 AKA 'HMS Barreleye'

He was quite aware that they were all an oddity. This ship included, barely a week out of Hoovsin Bay and was sailing for the place where the war had begun, ironically the most ill-suited of the coastal cities to have them. The HMS Barreleye was not a rare breed, as she'd been released in record time with five other Kelpie Type submersibles (almost carbon copies of Canid Orca-class subs, modeled after the captured Seawolf), but what made her unique was the pony commanding it.

He yearned to stretch out his wings, felt them twitching with anticipation at his sides, but resisted the urge. He knew that, here in the command center, he could very well injure somepony. Many had asked him why he had signed up for the Harbor Watch of all things, for a Pegasi was most comfortable in the sky, and thanks to his experience with boats he'd been a shoe-in for command. Those were all very good things, but there was still that one outstanding detail in his record; injury, unable to fly.

Lieutenant Commander Hal "Skipjack" Hunley sighed, blinking in the gloom of the Barreleye's command center, his eyes sweeping over the nearby sailor ponies at their stations. Most of them were Harbor Watch, just like him, but they were supplemented by a dozen or so new recruits, fresh from Recruit Training in Seaddle (the new unofficial home of the Royal Navy's headquarters). They'd been picked up yesterday, when the Barreleye had stopped in for a refuel of smokeless coal, just enough to take them to Stalliongrad. What the recruits lacked in experience, they more than made up for in energy, which actually didn't mean much since no Harbor Watch soldier had any experience in submersibles either. Hunley himself had just finished his own training into the systems a month ago before he found himself appointed as commander of a brand-new vessel, one of the first the Royal Navy had made since their rebirth (efforts were still being made to finish the Marizona and her escorts, unfortunately). The Navy was so desperate for anypony, anypony at all, with any kind of boating experience at all, and suddenly Major Hunley of the Royal Army Harbor Watch (they were still using Army ranks at the time) was now a Lieutenant Commander in the Royal Navy Submersible Corps…essentially almost the same thing when you held the two ranks side-by-side.

Hunley cleared his throat, calling out "Sonar, keep a sharp lookout for siren songs. They're pretty heavy around these parts."

"Aye, Commander. Nothing on scopes yet."

Hunley knew his crew was a crack team, and they repeatedly demonstrated it in their performance, slipping smoothly through the waters as they rapidly approached their target, watching out for threats that may not even be there. Academic excellence could only go so far, however, and the sooner they became experienced seastallions, the better. They were almost all stallions, of course. Nearly all the mares in the Harbor Watch had been transferred to the surface fleets and logistics yards, leaving mostly only males to staff the Barreleye. While this did make arranging living quarters much easier, they were still left understaffed by at least a third, and the sooner they reached Stalliongrad the better. The waters of the Arcana Ocean were filled with any number of creatures, from water dragons to hydras to kraken to-

He heard it before the sonar did. A light, soft, high melody drifting down through his ears, ringing through the metal shell of the sub. At first, it was so soft, so subtle that he didn't even realize its existence was there. Henley simply found himself relaxing into his seat, wondering what could have ever been wrong in the world. He smiled, sighing quietly as he rubbed a hoof idly across the command chair's arm, suddenly feeling as though his commander's cap weighed a little too much. He set his head back, closing his eyes, about to order a new course when-

"Song detected! Off the port bow, sixteen degrees down! They're calling to us!"

That was why Henley had asked for female sonar operators, he recalled. Mares and generally females of all species were unaffected by siren songs, meant to lure males to their deaths under the water. He shook himself, straightening up once more as he ordered "Do as the lady says! Take us out hard to starboard and submerge!"

"You heard the Commander!" shouted the dive officer, just now shaking himself out of his own stupor. "We're going under the waves, you lugs! Prepare for dive!"

Looks like they'd be taking the long route to Stalliongrad, Henley grimaced as his crew sprung once more into action, fighting the lure from the sweet voices of the monsters waiting to devour them.

* * *

><p><span>Sweet Apple Acres, Ponyville, Western Equestria<span>

Her mind chose inconvenient moments to slip back to that day. It was frustrating more than angering, but as often happened, Applejack slipped through a medley of emotions. Fury, hurt, loss and depression were the most common chain to plague her, as they had whenever her mind was idle in the months since Rainbow Dash had left. And her mind was idle quite often at this particular hour, when the sun was slipping over the autumn horizon. The golden leaves always reminded her of that day when she and Dash had participated in the running of the leaves, all to see who was the most athletic. Of course, in typical fashion, they'd both let their own pride get ahead of themselves, taking the competition to such lengths as to accuse the other of cheating.

It was only after that, however, that things began to change. She and Dash began hanging out on a regular basis, doing practically anything and everything under Celestia's sun. Applejack had even managed to convince the unmotivated weather mare to help her buck apples alongside her, Big Mac and Caramel, the hired hand. Though she griped and she moaned all day everyday about working, Applejack had to admit she was a good help to keep around, and she had done excellent work.

But it wasn't until after the Gala that it started to get a little strange. Private lunches, a quick visit to listen to a new Vinyl Scratch record on Granny Smith's phonograph. Meaningless little ventures out to who-knew-where on a dare from the other. Perhaps she was oversimplifying it, but Applejack never liked to think in complexities. They just gave her a headache, and right now her mind was already scrambled and all over the place.

Suffice it to say, finally, that she and Rainbow Dash were in love. Point blank, that was how it was. No flowery words or romanticizing it. It was simply the easiest way to describe their relationship. Neither she nor Rainbow Dash had been very good with words, after all, and it wasn't like one was going to read a poem to the other. Especially not now. Not with her deployed on the other side of the world.

Applejack sighed, leaning forward and finally pulling out the apple pie she'd been staring at for the last ten minutes in the oven, trying to pull herself back together. This wasn't like her, getting distraught because her fillyfriend was far away. She was tough, she could handle it.

_Are you saying that about her or you?_

"Ah'm tired of arguin' with ma'self!" she snapped abruptly, the apple pie falling from the oven pad she'd been clenching between her teeth. Fortunately, she'd been standing next to the table at this point, and it clattered over the surface before rolling to a halt, perfectly intact and right-side up. Applejack sighed again, this time in frustration. It wasn't fair how much her friends had changed! Rainbow Dash was deployed to Prance (leaving them all here in the process), Big Mac was still at Army Reserve training (knowing he would have to stay and work the land) and Twilight was so distant it almost hurt to watch her on the few occasions she actually came out of the library. Pinkie Pie was…Pinkie Pie was alright. Regardless of what most thought, she at least knew when to simmer down and be serious. You just had to catch her at the right time, mostly when there wasn't actually a reason to party…which was very difficult to convince the pink earth pony of.

Fluttershy was, unexpectedly, the worst choice to talk to about her problems. Not because of any personality issues she had, no. It was the mood swings that made her flip out. Being three months in was already causing the normally gentle Pegasus to become a snarling, rapid monster one moment, a sobbing, quivering lump the next. Expecting a foal was excruciating just to watch and Applejack would personally never experience that sort of mess if she could avoid it. Which she would. Like the plague.

So that just left…Rarity? Could she actually do it? The fashionista definitely had quite a few experiences hidden away under that shiny mane of hers…

Abruptly, the door flew open, and in stampeded the infamous trio known as the 'Cutie Mark Crusaders.' Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. All of them were yammering to each other, tossing something back and forth and exclaiming loudly, apparently trying to get Applejack's attention, if she heard them right. Honestly, they didn't know when to be quiet and say one thing sometimes.

"Sis, sis, sis! You gotta hear this!"

"Omigosh, it's the best Applejack!"

"We totally rocked!"

"Applejack, c'mon, listen to it!"

"It's really good!"

"The most AWESOMIST song you ever heard!"

"Applejack-"

"ONE AT A TIME!" the farmer mare suddenly cried out, which fortunately quieted the three fillies down.

For a few seconds.

Applebloom tugged at her older sister's mane, looking up with pleading eyes. "We jus' want you to listen to our song!"

Applejack perked a straw-colored eyebrow, blinking down at her sister before glancing at the record currently on Sweetie Belle's horn. It was a nondescript thing, a piece of black vinyl meant to be played on a phonograph.

Phonograph…

She shook herself, slightly trying to get the music out of her head. "Song? You three made a song?"

"And we made fifty records and gave them to a whole –lotta- ponies! Sent about half of them to Vinyl Scratch!" Scootaloo crowed, making Applejack's jaw drop at the proclamation.

"-FIFTY- records? Where on Faunterra did you get the bits fer that? We coulda –bought- these stinkin' pies instead a' me makin' 'em!"

Sweetie Belle grinned. "I learned a new spell! We bought one from the recording booth at the music store, and I doubled them!"

Oh, sweet Celestia…

"Sweetie Belle, who taught you that spell?"

The young filly blinked in confusion for a second before she beamed and replied "I read about it in the library!"

A blond eyebrow perked up over a green eye. "And Twilight was fine with you learning obscure, -forbidden- magic?"

"Uh…" Sweetie Belle suddenly didn't seem so sure of herself, glancing left and right shiftily, as if looking for an escape. "Yes?"

The blond eyebrow went down, joining the other in a flat frown. "An' what did you blow up while learnin' it?"

"Uh…nothingimportant, justafewappletreesoutside!"

As Applejack hung her head, wondering what she was going to do with these three, her problems with Rainbow Dash seemed as far away as Prance itself, as the real issue came to her; by the time she was done cleaning up the CMC's latest mess, she wouldn't be able to get to the welcoming ceremony at all.

Why was it that when the manure hit the fan nobody was there to help you scoop it off?

* * *

><p><span>105th Equestrian Royal Army Regiment<span>

4th Company, Victor Squad

Near Ponyville

Current Assignment; Relocation

Private Tenpin Strike hated the Army.

He'd joined after hearing the tales of glory and the heroic story of how the 71st had held back an enemy that outnumbered them ten to one, carried modern equipment and even had the backing of a foreign power. But, of course, nopony ever mentioned in those grand tales that the battalion was almost wiped out to its last, save for a single company that equaled one tenth of its original number. For some reason, that little detail was always kept as far away from the current conversation as possible, especially when it was being told by a recruiter. Army, Navy, Marines, Magic Corps, Air Force. The grand battles of the 71st were always regaled by everypony who wore a uniform. But when it came time to recall the soldiers lost, there was an immediate change in subject.

It wasn't like Tenpin didn't want to serve in the face of the current crisis, he did. Hay, he'd almost signed up for the Royal Navy Marines because one of his friends was doing it. But he'd chosen the Army simply because there was the chance of staying home that much longer. Already, the Navy, Marines and Air Force were being deployed to foreign theatres such as Prance and Zebrabwe, securing friendly territory and assisting in local matters. Well, they were in Zebrabwe, anyway. The zebras and ponies had formed an accord decades ago, a pact to allow Equestria to come to their smaller sibling's assistance with supplies and other goods. However, that had only recently turned into troop deployments to root out the diamond dogs, jackals and hyenas trying to disrupt zebra supply lines in the far west, on the other side of Hippogryph.

From what he could hear, the Royal Marines were getting stuck in, hard. Fighting was harsh across the savannas and deserts and through the jungles villages of Zebrabwe, where the fighting had been already going for two months now. From all accounts, the marines sure seemed to be kicking flank. And, of course, dying at the paws, claws and fangs of the vicious carnivore insurgents.

Tenpin shook his head, grunting as his hoof hit a stone. His legs were still sore from the stallionhandling he'd received to have his new, Army issue shoes nailed in (honestly, did that dragon –have- to clamp his leg down and bucking –slam- the nails in with that hammer?). Then again, there were other reasons his legs were sore. He kicked at the stone, snorting as it flew away and smacked into another trooper's helmet nearby. The other pony only reacted lethargically, glancing around before reaffixing his gaze straight forward.

The green Canterlot colt stared back over his shoulder at the massive column stretching out behind him, the main cause for his sense of antagonism. Don't get him wrong, he loved the occasional prank (even on himself) but when he got irritated, such as now, he tended to get hostile. The problem was, of course, he'd been walking for full on almost ten hours now, changed shoes once and eaten out the back of a bucking steamwagon! That sort of thing would be bound to get anypony frustrated, and exhaustion, sore limbs and the entire day walking in the hot sun were digging into his patience, rendering him in an extremely foul mood.

The reason why most of the regiment was forced to hoof it to their new garrison detail was simply a matter of machinery. Steamwagons had never been in plentiful supply even before the current rise in hostilities, and now that the Kingdom was gearing up for full-scale war they were even harder to find. Currently, priority went to not only the Royal Marines deployed actively, but also the thousands of Army ponies deployed to the northern shore to enforce what some were already calling the 'Eye Line.' Marshal Eagle Eye was convinced that, when the Canid invasion came, it would be from the north once more, and had spent considerable amounts of resources to dig in almost three-quarters of the Royal Army along the coastline. Of course, that meant less equipment to go to the rearmost garrisons, which was where the 105th had been trekking for the last twelve hours.

Twelve.

Hours.

With a single hour for lunch break. And about two hours total from four half-hour rest stops.

Total travel time; fifteen hours from stop to finish, from early morning to now. Of course, the drill wasn't so bad. The regiment had been divided up into three shifts, and each shift would ride on the steamwagons one after the other for a third of the trip each. As Victor squad had been in the second segment, they'd gotten a little reprieve midway through.

Over the horizon, the sun was dipping out of sight, casting streaks of orange across the sky, the few clouds overhead blackened with shadow. Above, in the sky, Tenpin could already see the moon, its glow just barely visible as the two celestial bodies competed in the sky. But that didn't make sense, he thought. The sun should have dropped about two hours ago, and night should have rolled in already. Was Princess Celestia keeping the sun up longer to help the soldiers guide their way?

"Private Strike!"

Tenpin grimaced, glancing over his shoulder at the intimidating figure that came trotting out of the column towards him, gun-yoke bouncing as he did so. How the pony still had the energy to do so after such a long trek was beyond the green colt, but he stared at the gray sergeant approaching him with a mild sense of apprehension.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"You're not with the rest of the squad. How come?"

Tenpin snorted, shaking his head lightly. Sergeant Stop tried far too hard to fill in the mold of every other sergeant in the Army. The typical, hard-flanked and iron-eating fear mongers who not only kept their soldiers in line, they also demanded their respect. Although, sometimes, they'd get hatred instead. Tenpin couldn't ever take Short Stop seriously, especially when the sergeant was only a few years older than the recruit. Besides, it always seemed like the gray stallion had something to prove…the squad all listened to him, however, partly because of their training and partly because of Corporal Cobalt. You don't become regimental boxing champion without cracking a few skulls.

Tenpin sighed, shaking his head as he replied "All due respect, Sarge. I'm not in a social mood."

"Good. Because I'm not asking you to join a club, Private, I'm ordering you back into formation. So do it."

Yes, thought Tenpin as he sidled back over to Victor Squad where the other worn out recruits were walking. Sergeant Stop usually tried too hard to be a sergeant. But there were times that he fit the bill perfectly.

* * *

><p><span>Ponyville Public Library<span>

Spike had done his best over the months to keep the library clean and tidy, even though the doors had remained barred and any visitors at all turned away, all on the excuse that "extensive inventory and restocking" had to be done, all to keep Twilight's privacy intact. Secretly, however, the little dragon had been making delivery runs to ponies requesting specific books, all thanks in part to Ditzy who was the carrier. It was a way to keep suspicious eyes away from the tree, but it couldn't last forever. The few times Twilight had gone out, she'd looked a mess, and she'd brought more questioning ponies to the doorstep. Hardest of all was turning away the other Elements, especially Rarity. For the baby dragon to tell the fashion mare no to anything was heartbreaking to him, even to help Twilight.

But tonight that would change, thought Spike as he finished another inventory check, ensuring the books were all organized on their shelves as Twilight wanted. For tonight, the regiment was finally arriving, and Twilight would pick herself back up and get to business.

"Twilight!" Spike called as he clambered up the stairs towards the mage's room. "I just finished the inventory! Everything's sorted out and in its place!"

While the baby dragon usually got some sort of affirmative response from the unicorn, even when she was in the pits of depression or reading a book, tonight there was no reply, which was worrying again. He knew she hadn't gone back to sleep, she'd been getting ready all afternoon, panicking about what to do. Partially, it was about organizing the celebration and banquet to welcome the regiment to Ponyville before they moved on to their new outpost, but Spike knew that, contrary to her insistences, she was also concerned with how Short Stop would see her.

But now, she wasn't saying anything, and the baby dragon frowned, rolling up the inventory list and tucking it under his arm as he mounted the stairs. Twilight had eaten today, he'd seen to that. He'd been buying her groceries for the last half of a year and accepting gifts from Applebloom and Pinkie Pie when they were offered, but sometimes Twilight didn't eat. For lunch, however, he'd made sure she bit down a daisy sandwich, and he'd spotted her snacking on some alfalfa earlier, so he knew that much at least.

"Twilight?" he asked, knocking on her door. Receiving no response, he cautiously pushed it open. Her room was lit by a single candle, and Spike could at least let out a sigh of relief to find that the prodigy had cleaned up her room at last like she said she would. This move was going to be a real big thing for her, especially with Short so close by. After doing some snooping and negotiating with Mayor Mare, Spike not only knew now which of the new houses (built in and around town specifically for the military personnel) the stallion would be staying in, he'd also kept Twilight up to date on the war preparations out and about, so the two had something to talk about.

Honestly, playing matchmaker wasn't so bad, but he really felt out of his element here.

Twilight stood next to the candle, peering down at the table before her, back to the door. She didn't move as Spike stepped into the room, just continued to stare down at whatever it was on her desk. The little purple dragon groaned. And here they were making such progress! Now, however, she was suddenly off in another world once again, probably moping about something or another.

Still, somehow Spike kept his patience, pushing into the dim room and asking, calmly, "Twilight? Are you ready to go?"

The mare suddenly stiffened turning to face Spike with a confused look on her face. And what a face, Spike thought as he gawked. Twilight hadn't done anything that could be considered 'special' for tonight, but the fact that her coat was brushed, her mane groomed and entire being finally washed in general was a big turnaround, one Spike had expected but didn't know could look so good. She looked just as she had the day before the Battle of Stalliongrad, back to her old self.

Twilight smiled, replying "I'll be down in a minute Spike. Just head to the party without me for now."

As Spike nodded dumbly, Twilight turned back to Short's letters, smiling sadly down at them even through the web of apprehension she felt. Though short wasn't exactly her coltfriend (her own actions had set back their relationship a bit) she was still eager to try, and knew he at least returned some of the attraction she felt towards him. As such, she'd actually responded to his fourth letter, giving him the rundown of everything going on here in Ponyville. He hadn't sent a reply of his own, but that was understandable. He'd get here before it anyway.

She was finally ready to get her life back on track, she decided.

As she moved to put out the candle, however, her hoof brushed something on the desk, and Short's first letter was pushed aside to reveal...something odd. She frowned, leaning down and exposing the old book to the light. It was a thick, leatherbound tome, with steel bindings and even a lock set into the side to keep it shut. But it possessed no title.

Simply a pentagon of some sort on the front in silver.

"Now where did you come from?" she muttered, studying the tome. "Owlowicious? Did you put this here?"

No reply.

Oh well, she decided, shrugging again as she set the book to one side, putting out the candle and moving to the door, ready to get herself back on track.

* * *

><p>There was a rise near Ponyville, stretching out from the Everfree Forest to overlook the entire plain. From here, one could make out Sweet Apple Acres, the library, Sugarcube Corner, the Carousel Boutique, the Glass Fields Garrison and much more. From here, anypony could see the long column winding in from the east, across the river and into town proper. Lines of soldiers, seven thousand in all, as well as a few hundred steamwagons, their forward lights illuminating the way as they wheeled through the town.<p>

The sun was slipping over the horizon. Good. He'd rather not risk the chance, however slight, of being caught. Instead, he watched the activity below, miles away yet still clear to him, as if he were there. Finally, Twilight was emerging once more, her emotions mostly upbeat thanks to that useless idiot Stop. Oh well. He wouldn't matter anymore soon, and then he could get down to business. But not tonight.

"Yes, Twilight Sparkle. Celebrate, while you still can. Because soon, your worst nightmares will come to light…and I will be there to guide you through them."

* * *

><p>(Okay, once again, reviews are appreciated with criticism or compliments, but flames will be used to heat my creative stewing! See ya next week!)<p> 


	3. Chapter 2: Meet the Neighbors

(What, you're all here again? We've got to stop meeting like this, or people will start getting ideas!

I wish you all a Happy Turkey Day (even though its over) and hope you all got as stuffed as I did!...wait, no don't. I ate enough food to choke a dragon.

**Responses!**

Numbah six-sixtysix: man, watching the number of things I dropped makes me wince a bit. But you wait and see. I'll be patching up a lot of those holes real soon!

Turdy1: nice suggestion on the parrafin wax, man. I'll be sure to slip that in somewhere, be a great boost to compete with fossil fuels.

Maddog3060: I was wondering who might mention Belgium! Truth is, there is no neutral country in between the two. You think such a small nation would last in the shadow of such imperialist powers like Prance and Canida? I kid, of course. But seriously. No Belgium here.

The Socialist: the more antagonists...the more confusing it is. I'm starting to wonder if I'm taking on too many perspectives...nah! Impossible!

paxtofettel: Ve haff vays uf making hyu leave a longer review!

DoctorWhooves: well, all I can say is that our beloved Rainbow Dash will be having her own internal crisis soon. After all, you're right. It -wasn't- very loyal at all.

OMFG-Roach: I'm certain I have -no- idea what you're talking about. *innocent whistling*

Okay! Enough jawing! Time to get strapped in and strap on!...a gun, that is. What, you seriously think I'm gonna-NO!

ON

WITH  
>THE<p>

Ah, forget about it, just read the damn chapter!)

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Chapter 2: Meet the Neighbors**

South Arcana Ocean

Five-hundred miles North of Matriarchy Airborne Legion outpost "Starhawk"

9th Hegemonic AOT (Advanced Operations Taskforce)

Aboard Packmaster Class aircraft carrier CNV-1301_ Stalwart_

T-Minus Thirty for mission go: Operation Root Canal

Stealth Measures Active

The RKH-61 assault rifle was a gas operated, lightweight, modular, fully automatic and ambidextrous bullpup rifle, the carbine version of the previous generation's RKH-55 rifle (which had been retired from active use in all branches of the Hegemonic Armed Forces), and a considerable step up from the rifle used in the Second Trench War against Prance, the RKH-32. The 61 fired a lightweight, accurate, hard-hitting 6.8mm Grendel smash-head round designed to expand on impact to cause maximum internal tissue damage. It had a rate of fire of nine-hundred rounds per minute and a muzzle velocity of eight-hundred and sixty meters per second. It used a top-mounted Skorag accessory rail to attach iron sights and (more commonly) many different kinds of scopes. The foregrip could be slid off to make room for a PGL-14 single-shot, break-open, double-action grenade launcher, giving an individual soldier much more effectiveness in the field. The barrel had the fittings on its muzzle for a flash suppressor that would allow the user to stay hidden in their position without giving away their position to enemy eyes, and could be further enhanced by a long, slender sound suppressor to mask the sound of the gunshot.

This rifle was the most advanced in the world, made from carefully machine-tooled parts in a factory and combining a dozen generations of assault weapons together in one lethal package.

And it was laying in pieces before him.

Captain Ulrich Boxer sat cross-legged on the floor of his quarters, studying his weapons very carefully. To know one's weapon as if you knew yourself was to make an extension of your body into the weapon, a natural feel that would allow the handler to react as if the weapon was part of him. This technique was, ironically, first learned from the Prench, who brought the ancient art of sword fighting with them to the battlefield. Granted, they had held their swords quite differently, but the effect had not been lost on dogs, who immediately applied it to their new firearms after their liberation.

Before him, the RKH was disassembled, scattered over the cloth in front of him. Beside it were the pieces of his J2F magnum pistol, also disassembled. Next to that were three CM100 fragmentation grenades, still whole but ignored for now. All the equipment he would be using on this mission, the job where he redeemed himself and finally regained his honor.

Boxer took in a deep breath, closing his eyes as his ears twitched, his body straining with power restrained and reserved. And then, in a flash, his paws were flying over the rifle parts, his eyes snapping open to glare unblinkingly down at the machined components as they slid together with muted clicks, the well oiled parts making nary a scrape. In seconds, the rifle was reassembled, and he slid the grenade launcher, rifle scope and suppressor into their positions with gentle and conservative gestures, almost as if he were caressing a loved one. His paw snapped back, pulling the action twice, listening to the way the metal slid over itself, the clack of the catch coming down on an empty chamber.

As quickly as it was picked up, the rifle was set aside, and the pistol was suddenly together again as well, its mechanisms quiet in the small room.

As if that were a signal, there came a rapping at the door, and Boxer paused before he set his pistol down on the cloth, standing and stepping over to the hatch and twisting the wheel before pulling it open to reveal none other than Major Dirk Frost.

"Ice Dagger."

"Berzerker."

Frost glanced inside the small room, eyes lighting on the weapons in the center with a neutral expression. It took a lot to get a rise out of the major, the calmer of the two. They'd served on the same Black Ops team for three years, where they'd both earned the callsigns they continued to use to this day. Frost had always kept himself cool and calm, even when a mission was falling apart. Boxer, on the other hand, was the fury behind the group, taking their enemies apart one by one. He let his emotions guide him, not exactly admirable in a soldier, but his skills were so enhanced that it didn't matter.

"I see you're getting prepared."

"Yes. I was just doing a last minute check on my equipment."

Frost nodded, not taking his eyes from Boxer's. The two never trusted each other before, and they wouldn't start now either. However, whereas Frost was always watching his back to be aware of the vindictiveness of Boxer, the berserker was going to be settling back on his laurels, letting the new major's paranoia get to him. He would regain his rank once more, and Frost would be crushed.

Later, of course. The patient hunter always gets a bite to eat.

"Excellent. I'm here to remind you that we're almost ready to launch. Thirty minutes and counting."

"The wolves?"

"Already on deck, loading the gyrodynes."

"So you came to me last?"

"Best for last, Berserker. You're my second down there."

"…right," Boxer sighed, smiling coldly as he gave a quick salute. "Sir. Ponyville, here we come."

* * *

><p><span>Ponyville, Town Square<span>

Fluttershy honestly didn't know what to think of soldiers. She was, after all, extremely divided on the issue. While she abhorred violence in any way, shape or form (even just the natural predator-prey relationship of the world) she did admire these ponies for at least fighting what the world was already slating up as a hopeless battle. Being alone and oftentimes confined to her home, she'd learned how to use and tune the radio with every degree of skill a master technician would have, even learning in her spare time how the device worked and borrowing a few books from Spike to do some reading on it. This, then, was how she filled her time, listening to news reports and music and learning about electricity and radio.

And, of course, her husband was going through training right now. Big Macintosh had left two months ago, promising to return as soon as he could, and Fluttershy had kept track of the days since. Mac's letter had once stated that basic training was much shorter for Royal Army recruits than the other branches, and according to Fluttershy's calendar and Mac's estimations, he'd be back within the next two weeks.

Fluttershy herself didn't know much about the particulars of training, and her husband wasn't allowed to talk about it in his letters, but the cream-colored Pegasus knew her big red draft stallion wouldn't have changed a bit save for the extra job security he would now have. And fortunately, since Ponyville was so far to the west, there was no chance of him being called off to war either. So, aside from the two month ordeal, she had no reason to be mad…

"I'm going to kill him when he comes back," she muttered, teeth grinding as she felt her anger rise, wings rustling irately. The nerve of Big Macintosh Apple! To leave his expecting wife at home, practically alone, while he went off to learn how to become a trained killer! Who could do such a-

"You're gonna kiss who, Fluttershy? Ooh, I hope it's Big Macintosh!"

Abruptly, the Pegasus' rage died out, and she turned to see Pinkie Pie standing next to her, head tilted expectantly and a goofy smile on her face. The pink mare was playing dumb, Fluttershy knew, something to try and lift the Pegasus' spirits, to which she greatly appreciated. She knew that her behavioral patterns were making her friends a little cautious around her, but Pinkie's unabashed and unrestrained sense of humor (good and corny) helped Fluttershy stay on the bright side.

Most of the time.

Fluttershy smiled, happy to see Pinkie once more. "Oh, hey Pinkie Pie. Just forget what I was saying. I'm afraid I had another outburst."

"Okey dokey lokey Mrs. Apple!" the party mare beamed, grinning as she bounced a little in place. Really, it seemed like there was very little that could dampen Pinkie's mood, and Fluttershy couldn't help but smile and blush a little at her new surname. Mac had told her she didn't need to adopt it if she didn't want, but she had insisted upon it, wanting to be his wife in every way, shape and form.

"So Fluttershy! How's the party going?"

Glancing between her excited friend and the 'party', Fluttershy wasn't sure at first how to answer. The welcoming ceremony had been Twilight's idea in the first place, a way to make the arriving soldiers feel welcome and ease the transition. At least, that's what Spike had said, delivering the purple unicorn's orders and plans by way of scroll through Ditzy "Derpy" Doo. There weren't supposed to be balloons or cakes here, though. At least, not from what Fluttershy understood of the plan. But Pinkie had, of course, tracked down the scent of the party straight to Mayor Mare's office and took it upon herself to…'offer' some 'suggestions.' Now, over on the stage in the corner, the band was finishing with their warm-up, preparing to strike up a jaunty tune as soon as the soldiers were within the square. How exactly Pinkie Pie had gotten the group was a complete mystery to Fluttershy, but famous entertainers like the String sisters Octavia and Violina were present, along with Blues, the resident saxophone expert, and his cousin Noteworthy, currently finishing with a run over his drums. Lyra Heartstrings, Ponyville's own resident starving artist, was also there, albeit over on the side with her lyre. Most odd of all, Mr. Breezy was finishing with his bagpipes. Bagpipes, of all things. It had to be the strangest band Fluttershy had ever seen.

Meanwhile, the picnic tables set out for the soldiers were full to bursting with cuisine, from dinner items like piles of apples and stacks of sweetened hay to desserts like cakes and various pies, all prepared in Sugarcube Corner and generously donated by the Cakes. The square itself was full to bursting with most of Ponyville's residents, supporters of the military and eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Army. What few ponies openly disapproved of the armed forces were, at least, not here, sequestered away in their homes. Above the entire assemblage was a collection of balloons in various colors (where did Pinkie get camouflage patterns?) as well as an enormous banner proclaiming **WELCOME TO PONYVILLE 105****TH**** ARMY REGIMENT**. This, it seemed, was one of the few things left unmodified from Twilight's original plans.

"Pinkie," Fluttershy began, raising an eyebrow at the crowd. "It hasn't even started yet."

"And already it's AWESOME!" Pinkie crowed, leaping onto a nearby bench and dancing around. "Look at it! Everypony's having a great time, and the guests of honor haven't even shown up yet!"

While a few heads turned to stare at the ecstatic pink earth pony, everypony else simply ignored Pinkie's familiar antics. There wasn't a single one of them that hadn't seen the effects of one of the infamous parties or been hilariously pranked by her and Rainbow Dash. The dancing was simply business as usual.

Just as Fluttershy was about to comment once more, Daisy came galloping back into the square, out of breath and a plume of dust spewing up behind her. Elected as the lookout, it was her job to watch for the Royal Army column and let the town know when it was time to get ready for the greeting. While not exactly the fastest, she'd been one of the only ones to volunteer, and had been standing out watching for almost three hours now.

"THEY'RE COMING!" she yelled, racing through the square.

"Places, everypony!" Pinkie called out, but her voice was lost amid the tumult of the crowd stampeding back and forth, creating a lane towards the tables and stage, down which the soldiers could march. Mayor Mare took to the stage as the band prepared to strike up their first number. A tapping at the microphone (and a brief adjustment of the speakers by Blues after the hash of feedback) and the town's leader was ready to give her welcoming speech.

"Oh my," Fluttershy started, realizing there were several very important ponies missing. "Where's Applejack? And Rarity? And Twilight?" She flapped her wings, hovering above the crowd for a moment as she gazed upon the rush of colors and forms, looking for her three friends. The party couldn't start without them, right? Especially since Twilight had designed it, Applejack had cooked for it, and Rarity had helped decorate it.

So where were they?

* * *

><p>The soldiers spotted the lights of the party from miles away, and suddenly found the energy to rush towards it like a pony who had been hitting the salt hard spotting a glass of water. Those on hoof quickly latched themselves onto the sides of nearby steamwagons (completely against regulations, but they were too excited to care at this point), hanging off the rails and racks like the equipment stuffed onto the vehicles. Those left were still forced to walk, but did so at a faster pace and with hope for a feast and relaxation finally in sight. Even Colonel Di'ac, rising up front in her command vehicle, smiled at the prospect of celebration, something so desperately needed in these grim times, peering back to watch the troopers proceed to cover the distance in record time, even after the weariness of so much marching.<p>

The second the first group of soldiers and Colonel Di'ac's steamwagon crossed into the square, thunderous applause rang out as the residents of Ponyville cheered, those closest reaching out and shaking hooves or bro-hoofing those troopers within reach, and the weary Army soldiers gladly returned the gestures. The column continued to roll through, steamwagons parking on the unoccupied sides of the square and disgorging their passengers to stream out and join the swelling crowd of green-camouflaged fatigues and armor. For a few minutes, worry crossed several brows, for the 105th not only outnumbered the Ponyville residents, the town only having a population of roughly around the same number (no official count had ever been taken in years, and the weather team continued to come and go...or would have, if almost half of them hadn't enlisted with Rainbow Dash) but the square was too small to hold the flood of soldiers, and the streets of the town were packed with bodies, the unwashed stench of thousands of sweaty, smelly soldiers filing in and a few hundred steam-powered wagons parking wherever there was space. The scent was manageable, at least, as it was fighting with the smells of fresh food and steam engine exhaust, as well as the multitudes of flowers placed around the square.

Finally, just when it seemed like the town itself would burst, the last few soldiers staggered in, and the racket rose to an unfathomable din as soldiers and civilians mingled, exchanging jokes and conversation (or trying to, for it was almost impossible to hear over the wave of noise). Most troopers by this point had shed their helmets, weapons and vest webbings, dropping everything by the steamwagons or in random piles scattered through town.

Though the ones in the streets couldn't see the square, they were at least within hearing distance when the mayor tapped the microphone and called out "Fillies and gentlecolts! Soldiers of the 105th Royal Army Regiment! I am Mayor Mare, and I heartily wish to extend our town's warmest greetings to you as the first military unit to set hoof in Ponyville!" A round of cheering rang through the massive crowd (which on second glance only occupied half of the town), mostly from the soldiers but also from the residents. The mayor continued "We give you a feast to fill your empty bellies and beds to house your weary bodies before you go on to the outpost, and hope that this will signify many happy times and much cooperation in the future! So, without further ado, let the party begin!"

The band behind her struck up a fast tune, all kinds of sounds meshing together in a surprisingly welcome chorus, rolling out over the darkened town and kicking off what was, quite possibly, the largest party Pinkie Pie had ever put together. And, unsurprisingly, the pinky pony was at the very center of it all, living up the cheer and fun she'd orchestrated.

* * *

><p>The celebration was in full swing by the time Twilight and Spike emerged from the library, the unicorn wanting to finish up a few last preparations (which were a bit useless, Spike had pointed out, for Short wasn't even coming over) before she was finally ready. Surprisingly, Rarity was waiting for them right outside, dressed in a tasteful but stylish black (camouflage? Really?) dress with a modest amount of makeup on her face. Compared to her, Twilight seemed especially bare, but the fashionista mare still squealed with glee as the mage stepped outside.<p>

"Oh, look at you, Twilight! I had almost forgotten what you looked like, and now you're all freshened up!"

"Thanks, Rarity," Twilight replied flatly, not sure if that was a compliment or an insinuation.

"Oh, my dear! You must pardon my excitement, I meant that with only the best intentions. I'd gotten so worried about you that I was ready to burst in myself and save you! But I'm quite pleased to see you out and back to your old self again!"

"Thanks, Rare. You're not looking so bad yourself."

"I should think not!" the white mare huffed, pulling her nose into the air. "This is a Rarity original, made specifically for this event! I did an _-enormous-_ amount of research into military patterns with my contract, and I can honestly say that the pattern was simplicity itself!"

Rarity had, in conjunction with her reputation for style and speed, been commissioned a month ago by Armed Forces High Command to make uniforms, both field and dress, and thanks to her skill in stitching she'd burned through every weekly order. So far, she'd mostly pumped out fatigues for the Royal Marines, but she'd just gotten her newest order to begin on Army uniforms this week.

"Well, you've got my vote for dress of the year!" Spike remarked, making a thumbs up at his crush, a stupid grin on his face. Twilight rolled her eyes at her assistant's barely disguised flattery. He'd compliment Rarity's work even if she'd tossed it in the trash.

"Dress of the year? Oh, Spike, I'm afraid this wouldn't even come close. Even with the rise in military popularity, alot of those judges are still completely anal about patterns. I appreciate the compliment, though."

"Have you seen the others?"

"I saw Fluttershy heading towards the town square a few hours ago. Poor dear really shouldn't be straining herself like that in her condition..." Rarity paused for a moment, frowning before she smiled again. "I know Pinkie will be right in the thick of it, as always. But I haven't seen Applejack yet. Caramel came in pulling her cart, so maybe she's just running late."

Twilight shrugged, relief coursing through her that she could see almost all of her friends again (and that they'd mostly shown up, of course). "Well, you know Applejack. She'd probably just busy. Least she got the food here. She'll show if she'd got the time."

The three began to make their way towards the crowd, Spike and Rarity chattering aimlessly about dresses and competitions and how Carousel Boutique's dresses were sure to win every time (well, Spike was the one saying that, at least). Twilight had long ago detached herself from the conversation, her mind and eyes straying to the tumult before them, swallowing in anticipation. She knew the numbers, sure, but she hadn't realized that the crowd would still be -this- big. A veritable sea of green vests and fatigues was spread out before her, occupying more than half of Ponyville and obscuring the inner group from sight. The rumble of good partying and thousands of conversations spilled back over her, competing with the music over the speakers as to which was the louder.

"Where are you, Short?" she muttered, realizing that, with all these soldiers here, she might not find him in the mass. What would he think then, that she was too cowardly to show up and face him again?

"Relax, Twilight. It's a big crowd, but you'll find him."

Blinking, the student glanced at Rarity, who wore a knowing smile on her colored lips. The white mare nodded, gesturing to the crowd and saying "Go find your soldier, darling."

* * *

><p>The task was far more daunting than even her wildest imagination could have portrayed. It didn't help that the crowd was pressed together as much as possible, and the entire mass was one enormous entity of swaying bodies dancing to the beat. Even keeping herself coordinated by the groups of soldiers centered around piles of helmets and rifles didn't assist her much, for the troopers were holding their own small groups of parties in amongst themselves. Several had fished out salt licks, and these were being passed around by the dozen to the group, obviously contraband but not confiscated by any of the officers Twilight spotted.<p>

After an hour of pushing (and watching Pinkie ride past on the backs and hooves of the crowd as least six times) Twilight was completely lost and about ready to give up and find her way back out. She'd see Short tomorrow, hopefully, and she could try to explain what had happened. Abruptly, however, she found her forward movement arrested by the front of another pony, and she fell to the ground, dazed and trying to discern what happened.

"My apologies, miss. I appear to have had a momentary lapse in manners."

Impossibly, she could hear his voice above the crowd, as clearly as if there was nopony else around, and his tone was that of one speaking levelly, not shouting to be heard. Twilight glanced up, curious now. Above her, a black unicorn loomed, his mane a beautiful shade of silver, sparkling in the multitude of lights. He wore a small smile on his face as he gazed down at her, extending a hoof to assist her.

"Do allow me to assist you in regaining your stance."

"Uh...thanks," she replied, accepting the help and brushing herself off. "Sorry. I'm usually more alert."

"Oh, it's no trouble. So long as you're unharmed." The unicorn turned, beginning to walk off before stopping and saying "Oh, and you might want to check near the fountain to find Sergeant Stop. He's currently relaxing with his squad."

"Thanks," Twilight replied, about to move off into the crowd when she suddenly realized two things; one, she was speaking normally as well, having a regular conversation. The noise seemed to be outside of a bubble almost, muffled and shut out to block out almost all noise (a spell of his?). And two, he'd told her where to find Short. Without even being aware of who she was looking for.

Twilight snapped back around, intending to confront him, but the unicorn was gone, vanished into thin air. Or the crowd, she winced as the noise came slamming back down on her, causing the mage to lose her sense of balance and direction for a second. When she finally regained her senses, she gazed again at the spot the silver-maned unicorn had been. Today was just getting strange.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, Short was right where the unicorn had stated. Twilight spotted him through the crowd as she pushed closer, batting away a string of blue and pink camouflaged balloons before she finally broke out and into the little clearing created by yet another pile of equipment, rifle yokes stacked up carefully in the center and helmets arranged in a ring around them. Short was discernible enough, still recognizable with his grey coat and crew-cut black mane (short than what she remembered. Must have gotten it cut recently). But the real tipper was the large blue mare next to him, her white mane equally short. Azure Cobalt, the only other survivor of Victor Squad.<p>

Twilight took a second to watch the two carefully, a streak of paranoia flashing up in her as the two talked, indiscernible in the noise. Finally, however, Short raised his head and, upon noticing Twilight, ceased his end of the talk, even in the middle of a sentence. Flashing a short grin at the purple mage, he said one last thing to Azure before he crossed quickly over to a now beaming Twilight, catching her with his forelegs in a tight hug, one she gladly returned.

Upon breaking the embrace, he leaned in, yelling "Come on! Let's find somewhere we can actually talk!"

Fortunately, Twilight knew just the place.

* * *

><p>Espionage Mission; Ponyville<p>

Codename: Muttahari

Assignment: Recon 'Elements of Harmony' and Ascertain Threat Level

Report begins.

During my time in Ponyville, I have kept track of several aspects of the town, including its proximity to the Matriarchy. But I can honestly say that these 'Elements of Harmony' may represent the greatest threat to the operation aside from the Princesses. United together, the Six are quite a powerful magical force.

We must strike soon. One of the Elements is not present (Element of Loyalty, please see attached dossier) and the others are divided, unsure of each other. So long as this continues, their power is non-existent, and the various jewelry hereby codenamed as 'Talismans' (see attached dossier) are of no use.

There is the possibility of using these Elements to our advantage. Must gather more information, but I'm currently being stonewalled by the large level of activity in town. With the Army garrison here, I will need more support.

Report ends.

* * *

><p>(Seriously, do I even have to put anything down here? You all know what I'm about to say anyway, since you're all freaking MIND READERS! Seriously, you guys have guessed so many of the events to come in <span>Guardians<span> that I'm not even dropping hints in the responses anymore. Blegh. Still, read, review and above all, enjoy!)


	4. Chapter 3: The Fateful Reunion

(Hey, readers! Writing to you from a foreign location AKA my friends' house five miles away from mine lol. Anyway, got this new chapter for you this morning courtesy of my pal Evie! No, she's not a Pokemon, so you can't catch her.

Turdy1: we could have our own Union Pacific somewhere. It would just be the Union Arcana. Heh.

Numbuh six-sixtysix: that's...a lot of questions. Okay, I'll try and solve them as they come. Guh...

Flyinpenguin117: well, I hope you'll stay with us for quite some time.

Trekkette: I'm glad you approve! And don't worry. You won't be crying in this fic!

BronydudeIII: it's good to have another worshiper for my cult! *evil laugh* just kidding. Good to have you with us, and I thank you for your heartfelt compliments.

The Socialist: I know, right? It almost breaks my heart to put Mac and Shy's colt in the line of fire!

Fizzypup: first, yes the Wonderbolts will be appearing once more. They weren't just a cameo to be disgraced. Secondly, I also wanted to spread things out a bit, show the world at large. Guardians was all about the battle for Stalliongrad, but Ceasefire is about the interim between. The third story, the Great War, will return us to the action completely.

paxtofettel: I don't know why, but ever since I learned of it, FlutterMac has always just made sense to me!

Now!...eh, let's just go!

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Chapter 3: The Fateful Reunion**

Kodiak Protectorate

Matriarchy Controlled Territory

Disputed by the Geisterbjorn Rebel Movement

The guns arrayed before her were a curious mismatch of rifles, handguns, shotguns, various automatic weapons and even a large grenade launcher. Of course, they were all made to be gripped by bears, and as such they were far too large for a simply griffon like herself to pick up, let alone fire. One could try, of course, but the recoil almost always sent you spinning thanks in part to the unbalanced nature of the gun when held as only a griffon could. Heavy caliber rounds would be hammered out to cause devastating and horrendous damage on whatever sat in front of it.

Still, it was the weapons –not- designed for bears that drew Warden Tempestia Bravencrest's attention. She glanced up, over at the rebel steam truck, mounted with two of the infamous Gun Frames. Behind that was the even more sophisticated P-21 anti-flier gun, a self-propelled weapon on treads, designed to spray the air with its 50mm autocannons. The front part of the cab had been removed to make room for the bear crew, and even now she could see several other crude improvements that had been made.

The griffon glanced down at the large pile of dead bears before her, a dozen or more taken from this one raid alone. All of them determined, all of them heavily armed.

The Matriarchy had long thought Kodiak to be on the verge of being pacified. With the Geisterbjorn cells squabbling amongst each other and using outdated equipment and tactics, it was almost too easy for the Legion to roll over them. Now, however, the table was turning as the rebel front reacted with more coordination, fielding better equipment and using tactics comparable to any high-level military in the world.

Something had changed, and the Legion wasn't prepared for that. Even now, only after a few days, they were already staggering under the loss of four cities to the rebel movement, and unrest was growing everywhere else.

"Report," she called out, and her squad instantly perked up, scattered about as they were inspecting the site of the battle. While they hadn't been the ones to attack the bears, those who had weren't around to speak of what had happened. Twenty or thirty griffon corpses were scattered around nearby, in various stages of slaughter. What had happened wasn't clear, but Bravencrest wanted as clear a picture as possible of the events that transpired here. As such, she'd ordered all weapons and material nearby to be collected and assembled.

It wasn't much. What firearms were left behind simply seemed to have been missed, and all ammunition had been stripped from every single body in a hurry. The bears had been piled up when they'd arrived, and the vehicles emptied of fuel, both smokeless coal and kerosene.

One of her recruits flapped over, landing before the Warden and saying "Looks like an ambush, Ward. One gone badly for us, it seems."

"Got that much. What do you have on these weapons?"

"They're still bearing the seals of the Equestrian Royal Army and Canid Hegemonic Armed Forces. Shell casings match their manufacturing profiles."

Tempestia cursed under her breath, rearing up onto two legs, removing her helmet as she trudged through the mud.

"Dammit. This doesn't look good. Where the hell are they getting these weapons? What's got them so riled up and fighting like an actual army?"

And, the most important question of all, could the neglected forces in Kodiak actually stop the newly motivated (and equipped) Geisterbjorn?

* * *

><p><span>Ponyville Public Library<span>

As the door shut behind him, Short at first thought the library was dark. But no, compared to the bright lights outside from the celebrations, the place was only dim, candles alight in the gloom, and it took his eyes several seconds to recover from the contrast. By comparison, the tree was silent as the grave as well, and he could still hear the roar of the crowd, the buzz of music and the rumble of steam engines coming from outside.

But, personally, he'd much rather be here.

"I'll be right back," Twilight said hurriedly as she trotted past, heading up the stairs to the upper floor, pausing long enough to say "There's food and drink in the fridge if you want any. I'll only need a few minutes." With that, she disappeared in a purple flash through the darkened doorway to what Short assumed was her room.

He reached up, pulling his helmet off and depositing it on a nearby chair, careful not to let any dirt get on the hundreds of books around him. It was a very impressive collection, no doubt, and even though he couldn't discern the titles on their spines, he knew they had to contains dozens of subjects within. Slowly, careful not to slam into anything in the gloom with his still adjusting eyes, he navigated his way into what he assumed was the kitchen, lit slightly brighter thanks to the candelabra on the table, holding a brace of five wax candles. Shrugging his rifle yoke off once more, he set it down with the barrel facing up, following firearm safety procedure out of habit more than any real concern. The ammunition chain was disconnected from the yoke, and all the rounds were still in the weapon's magazine, rattling lightly as the rifle's barrel came to rest against the edge of the table.

Cracking open the simple refrigerator, Short noted that it was mostly bare. Various apple products and several baked goods dominated most of the small space, interrupted by the occasional cluster of flowers, hay or bread. He inspected these foods closely, wondering if this could mean a predetermination of diet. Still, the fact that there was little food meant she was still eating, and judging from what he'd seen and heard of her, she seemed to be keeping herself in good health and manner. Perhaps his fears were no longer valid, and she'd finally gotten over her stress...or maybe she was just good at hiding it.

He shrugged, pulling out the materials needed to make a hay and daisy sandwich...as well as six apples, a slice of carrot cake and a pint of orange juice. An odd meal, to be sure, but one he made in minutes and ate in minutes, practically gulping it down. He'd burned a lot walking all that way, and he was tired, sore and hungry. Fortunately, with one of those conditions solved, he could take care of the other two before tomorrow, when the regiment would continue on to the garrison proper, out in Glass Grass Fields. The walk was only about ten miles or so, easy pickings with a steamwagon, but a full two-hour trip on hoof.

Rubbing his sated belly, Short hopped out of the chair and deposited his dishes in the sink, deciding to explore a little while he waited for Twilight. It had been almost a half-hour since they arrived, and she had still not reappeared. Normally, he would be worried, but this was her home, and he knew she could take care of herself. Instead, he began browsing the shelves, squinting in the dim light to make out their titles. And the titles were amazing! History, geology, folk tales and ever more topics, they seemed to go on forever! On a whim, he decided to pull out one or two tomes on Equestrian sports, and suddenly found himself at a table, studying one with four others stacked up nearby. It was remarkable how much he knew about baseball, and yet these books were making him learn as if he had never even heard of the sport before.

Finally, however, he checked the clock again, realizing that an entire hour had passed since his arrival. Frowning, he closed The Classic Age of Ponies in Baseball and turned, frowning as he glanced up the stairs. He found himself hesitating to try and approach the doors, as if some invisible force held him by the ankles. After all, this was Twilight's room, a place he shouldn't be going into until...she invited him. Right? Still, was it intrusive if he was going up to check on her, make sure she was alright? Come on Short, he thought to himself, you've faced down a dragon before and thousands of dogs! You can go into one filly's bedroom!

Slowly, hesitantly, he mounted the steps, pausing occasionally to make sure the violet mare wouldn't emerge to find him on the stairs just below him. What an embarrassment that would be. Probably get thrown out on his flank...no, Twilight was better than that. She would understand, he was just concerned and curious...a bit more curious now he thought about it.

He pushed the door open, peeking in slowly. Like the rest of the library, the room was rather dark, boasting more books along shelves that seemed to be part of Twilight's private collection. Up a ladder, a bed sat below a wide window, with a grand vista panoramic of the night sky, the moon prevalent in it. For a few seconds, Short stood in awe of such a beautiful sight, smiling at the span of stars stretching out before him. Some creatures in the world didn't believe in spirituality and gods or goddesses, but when faced with such evidence as this, Short was constantly reminded on their presence. Maybe he'd start going to temple after all...

A bit of movement caught his eye, and he turned, eyebrow raised to find Twilight standing at a desk, a quill scribbling furiously at the scroll before her and at least a dozen books floating around her, each flipping their pages back and forth. The prodigy continually looked down at her notes, then back up at the tomes, memorizing what she needed in a flash and jotting down some comment about it before moving on to another page or even another book, and all throughout the quill only stopped to dip back in the inkwell for more.

He watched her for a moment, impressed and just plain dumbfounded by her level of skill and coordination. He'd never seen her use such extensive magic or manipulate so many objects at the same time, not even in Stalliongrad (though the memories of the spell she'd cast in the sub still haunted him sometimes). But finally, he snapped out of his admiration and asked "Twilight? Everything okay?"

Abruptly, her concentration broke, and she spun around, the books around her all freezing in midair, a look of panic and guilt on the mage's face.

"Oh...manure!" she cursed, squeezing her eyes shut as all the books suddenly snapped shut, settling down on the desk in two stacks quickly (coincidentally obscuring his view of her notes at the same time). "Short, I'm so sorry. I just got so caught up with this thing, and I had to look it up and-"

"Hey," he interrupted her, moving close and touching a forehoof to her shoulder. "Easy now. It's okay. You got a bit sidetracked, that's alright."

She smiled at him in relief, and he smiled back, at least relieved she was ignoring the fact that he was in her room. He patted her on the shoulder, about to turn and leave to go wait for her to clean up and join him back downstairs, when she suddenly leaned forward, and he found his lips captured by hers, held there by some invisible force. Though surprised (and pleased) his eyes closed automatically, and he pressed into it a little more. Though he had no means to measure how long it lasted, the kiss seemed far too short, and Twilight pulled away, a light blush to her cheeks but still looking directly at him with a small measure of shyness. No awkwardness or embarrassment, at least.

"I owed you one," she said, chuckling at Short's stupid grin, before she nudged him in the side. "Now c'mon, back downstairs so I can properly show you around."

* * *

><p><span>Canterlot Palace<span>

Princess Celestia's Chambers

The room was ashambles. The walls themselves were perfectly fine, built to withstand the high intensity heat of the sun when Celestia had her little "flare-ups" as Luna called them. They were made of reinforced steel, put in place over the years as technology and the secrets of metallurgy advanced. The wallpaper, however, and the paintings hanging from the walls as well as the curtains and windows and doors…they were all burned to some degree.

The bed had been the first to go. Late night musings and frustrations had resulted in several flare-ups, tearing away the sheets and four-poster bed in firestorms of anger, causing the castle staff to panic endlessly and stock sheets continually. They could only replace the sheets and rebuild the bed during the day, however, for it was unsafe to enter when Princess Celestia was having an "episode." But though the beds were restored and the sheets replaced (even wards placed to try and protect the poor furniture) they were continually reduced to ash to be cleaned out in the mornings.

Finally, after a month of this, Celestia requested that no more beds be brought in. She would sleep on a thick steel plate. Though the castle staff protested, they understood.

The wallpapers and paintings were next as the global situation got worse, scorching away the trappings and the rest of the furniture in the large room until all that was left was steel and stone, their surfaces black and scorched and the wooden attachments piles of charcoal. Fortunately, all the really important items had already been relocated to Luna's chambers, where they would be kept safe.

Now, standing in what had once been a large and glamorous room draped in glittering shawls and bedecked by various shades of pink and white, Luna would have at first said it would be a dungeon, albeit one with an extravagant view out the grand vista (also burned). She shook her head, watching the stars beyond and the moon she had raised scant hours ago.

"Luna...Sister, you do not have to guard over me every night. I'll be fine."

With a quick jerk of her head, the doors on the other side of the room slid shut with no protest, their inside surfaces as scorched as the rest of the room. The cleaning staff hadn't visited for weeks either, for their work was burned away every night, and the Princess of the Sun finally told them to stop as well. The Princess of the Night looked down at the steel plate that was Princess Celestia's bed, frowning in concern. The once bright and exuberant alicorn was disheveled, her mane drooping as if weighed down by several gallons of water, her hooves dirty with soot and her coat sticking up in patches. Celestia was still agitated over the disaster in Prench negotiations today, where Councilor Affero was forced to leave the room by Prench military commanders saying that the Kingdom wasn't worth saving...in not quite so few words. Luna anticipated many flare-ups tonight, and was preparing to leave after checking on Celestia.

In response, Luna drew herself up straight, her face first hardening into iron before softening as she looked down on the Sun princess. "Sister...Tia. I do this because I must. I worry for you, and I just want to make sure you stay safe."

Celestia smiled tiredly, her head settling back down on the steel block. "Luna...I appreciate the gesture, but I am strong. I've grown soft over the last millenia, I see that now. Time was once where I wouldn't flinch at the thought of war and punish insolent diplomats. Now...I'm falling apart." She closed her eyes, pushing a forelock out of her eyes once more. "You're got to stay strong, Sister...for both...of us..."

"Goodnite Tia" Luna whispered, backing away silently, knowing her sister would sleep for at least a few more hours before something else burned. She closed the door, not bothering to lock it. Those who worked in the castle knew not to enter, and the Royal Guards outside the door were still as statues, ready to defend Celestia with their dying breaths. She really had nothing to worry about.

But she did. As Luna turned and began down the hallway once more, a pair of RAIC troopers detached themselves from the shadows, moving noiselessly to her flanks to take up position, their Type 15 medium machineguns scanning the hallways on their support yokes, two barrels each ready to spray the hallways if an assailant should show themselves. Another pair appeared ahead, completing the square around her in silence, despite their heavy ballistic armor, specially made for RAIC troopers and based on Air Force flying armor.

Luna sighed, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. With Tia in her distraught and worried state, Luna was the emotional crutch needed to keep the Sun Princess going, and her military reformations were finally stating to pay off...now, anyway. But with that, her reputation had...taken an infamous turn.

The door to her chambers opened, and the RAIC troopers took their posts outside, two on each side, ready to blast apart anypony who dared trifle with their Princess.

And yet...

The military spread rumors of her "brutality" and unwavering harshness. Even her Marshals were intimidated by her more than they respected her. It was all because of what happened with the Wonderbolts, she knew. She shouldn't have so badly disgraced such celebrities, but she had been forced to take -some- action. Still it wasn't doing her many favors, especially with Nightmare Night approaching...

She frowned, glancing over at her calender, next to her smiling bat plushie. Nightmare Night was only a week away, everypony's house decorated and costumes being finished for candy-plundering. An event that remembered how she had terrified Equestria and Faunterra and reinforced her new negative image, even among civilians who had no idea what was happening in the upper echelons of the military.

Luna smiled slowly, an idea coming to her mind. One that could, possibly, help reverse the downhill slope her public image was taking. She just needed to give her RAIC troopers a little bit of a makeover with a few transmorphing spells.

And she'd carry out her plan exactly where she'd started...

Ponyville would have a Nightmare Night like no other.

* * *

><p>(Suspense mounts! What will happen next week as the regiment settles in and the dogs move for the kill? Stay tuned!)<p> 


	5. Chapter 4: The World Turns Round

(Welcome to December, folks! It is confirmed, the Guardians series has been going strong since June, making this series six months old! Ain't it so cute?

With the end date coming up, I did some calculations and realized that we only have seven more chapters together! Gasp! While this isn't enough for me to finish the story (seriously, it's not) I can do my best with the chapters and time that I have left!

...now it just sounds like I'm dying.

Anyway!

Responses!

**The Socialist:**...yeah, I couldn't get a straight sentence out of that except for the last one. I'll chalk that up to either excitement or fatigue, and I'm sure you meant well too.

**Turdy1:** trains are a little bit of a gray issue here (my finicky side points out that if the ponies are pulling the damn thing, why have a locomotive at all) that I will be sure to go into more detail about sometime in the future.

**Numbuh six-sixtysix:** Griffons are stubborn, yes. But, the Matriarchy was founded on revolution and keeping a strong officer corps. While that may have descended into politics a bit, the point remains the same. So you can at least be seeing some reinforcements sent there in the future.

**CommanderRy:** I'm glad you found us, and are enjoying the series thus far. Really, it warms my heart to know people are still reading Guardians like its still the hot new thing off the shelf...until it gets buried in the annals of stories past and people can't find it anymore...but the Guard is doing well. I'm almost done with all the paper work *THANK GOD!*

Now!

Read my damn fic!

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Chapter 4: The World Turns Round**

Encrypted Message from Canterlot High Command sent via Radio

Received and Decrypted by Royal Cargo Ship _Endeavor_

Intercepted by Hegemonic Military Intelligence Directorate (MID). Failed to Decrypt Message

Message begins:

Immediate withdrawal of all assets based off of Endeavor to begin post-haste. Will be replaced by HMS Hippocrene and the 1st Support Flotilla to maintain operations in and around Prance. No Royal Army presence to be sent to region.

10th Armored Battalion to be redirected to Stalliongrad. 115th Royal Army Regiment to report to Canterlot for rearmament and further assignment. Endeavor to be disarmed at Seaddle. 15th Royal Marine Brigade to be reassigned there.

16th Fighter Wing to report to Cloudsdale to rejoin 4th Air Division. As entire division is exchanging roles with the 7th, the 16th Fighter Wing will report to Fort Coltson outside of Ponyville to defend western border.

Message ends.

* * *

><p><span>Next Day<span>

105th Royal Army Regiment, Fort Coltson, Glass Grass Fields

Ten Miles Northeast of Ponyville

Fort Coltson wasn't very large or glamorous. With just enough room to hold half of the regiment at any one time (while its motor pool was just big enough for all the steamwagons) the wooden walls seemed cramped constantly, the barracks full to overcrowding. Fortunately, the palisade-esque keep would not be playing host to the entire regiment, thanks to the residential houses built in Ponyville. At any one time, half of the regiment was at the base and the other half in the village itself, but neither half was truly relieved of work. The fort received little attention from its occupants as it was only six months old, leaving it near perfect at this stage and with very little to fix, save for what Colonel Di'ac called 'real defenses.' Trenchworks were dug around the fort on all sides, log bunkers erected and heavy weapons installed in both of these, further adding to the fort's ring of defenses until it was bristling with strongpoints by the end of the day.

In the morning, however, Colonel Zo Di'ac looked over her new stronghold from the ramparts, not completely impressed with what she saw but not entirely disappointed either. While it most definitely would not hold up to a concentrated assault from armor or aircraft, the wooden walls conveyed a sense of rustic ease to them, and carefully concealed the concrete fortifications and steel beams keeping the fort held together. While it may have –looked- like a structure made of wood ready to fall over at any moment, the thick wood and concealed metal were both more than enough to absorb an immense amount of damage.

"Colonel!" came a yell, and the zebra turned to spy Sergeant Olive Drab coming down the walkway towards her, headset firmly clasped over his ears. Having no radio pack to operate, Drab had instead found himself shifted to more mundane tasks, such as maintaining the communications set in Di'ac's command wagon and taking charge of all long-range radio transmissions in the regiment. Even as her adjutant, the wire-stallion still founds ways to make himself useful outside of his set task.

"Sergeant Drab, I did not call for you yet. Is something coming through on the radio set?"

The newly promoted NCO nodded, reaching back and extracting a slip of paper, presenting it to Di'ac by laying it on the flat wall next to them and pinning it down. "This just came in for you, ma'am. One way transmission, so I wrote it down. We're getting a few reinforcements, and not all of them are ground pounders."

Di'ac frowned, acknowledging the transfer orders personally. The 34th Armored Battalion was expected to report to Fort Coltson within the week, bringing much needed armored support in the form of numerous battlewagons and several heavy artillery guns. Coltson, already stocked to capacity, would need serious renovations done to accommodate the armored wagons and big guns. However, it was the next piece of information that really made the zebra raise her eyebrows.

"An Air Force Wing? Surely they cannot do this thing!"

Drab shook his head slowly, a grimace on his features as he did so. "Sorry, ma'am. These orders came straight from Canterlot High Command. 4th Air Division is being tasked with garrisoning the entire border, and we fall into their line of defense."

"But we have no landing pads, no airfield! And where will we store their munitions yield?" The black-and-white colonel gnashed her teeth angrily, not expecting an answer (and not getting one either) as she snorted, letting the notice fall to the floor as she looked away, gazing off into the distance. Glass Grass Fields, she'd learned had been named as such because (so the story went) the long-stemmed grass, when bent in the wind, shone in the sunlight as if a sheet of glass had been laid down and shattered, the surface it was on shifting and flowing to reflect the light as the glass might. But her troopers were in for a long haul of work to expand the motor pool and build new accommodations for the Pegasi coming in, rendering quite a bit of that grass into flat dirt and structures. With no presence from the Magic Corps in the region, it was down to good old fashioned blood, sweat and tears. Just how she liked it.

"Sergeant, round up the troops. I have some new construction ideas to send round the loop…"

"Uh…yes, ma'am."

* * *

><p><span>Ponyville<span>

Short had left in the night, taking his pack, rifle and helmet with him as he had departed. Twilight had been sad to say goodnight to him, but knew it was getting late, and he needed to go to his sleeping quarters. The entire regiment had been forced to cram into the houses, taking up the small abodes in threes and fours where one or two were supposed to live, but it had fortunately only been for the night.

Now, however, she helped clean up the aftermath from last night's party, passing a very much unconscious Pinkie Pie, asleep on the stage with her mouth stained by chocolate and a Royal Army helmet perched on her head. The mage chuckled, shaking her head as she gathered up several deflated balloons, depositing them with her aura into a plastic bag to be disposed of later. The pink earth pony wasn't the only one to have passed out from too much partying. Scattered around the town square, dozens of soldiers and civilians alike were just awakening to the morning, parched from salt dehydration or worn from too much dancing. Some had headaches from the loud music but the number one ailment that plagued those awakening was disappointment at a good time brought to an end and the prospect of the day's work. Soldier and civilian.

Already, Twilight spotted several Army soldiers, already up and in uniform, assembling outside of the new Mess Hall over at what some ponies were already calling "Ponyville HQ." The new houses had all been built on the western edge, where a large and unused field had previously been, clustered around each other in small clumps with expanding layers in curves reaching out until many hundreds of homes sat there. In the middle of them all were several buildings of great importance to the soldiers staying in town. Six Mess Halls stretched along the rows, easily accessible from all sides and impossible to miss from here, each one with varying crowds filtering through their entrances to get their morning rations. Another large structure was an armory, constructed by Magic Corps unicorn engineers several weeks ago out of concrete and steel, a block of ugly architecture that stood out against the rest of the Ponyville inspired buildings, almost an eyesore, really.

Ponyville's first police department also rose up from among the cluster of buildings. Two stories tall, with a bell steeple and two pointed watch towers, the dark blue building was emblazoned with a brass star over its door, proclaiming for all to see its purpose and intent. For now, it served as the 105th's "townside" command center, where Army personnel were managed from. Police ponies would come, of course, to replace the Royal Army MPs already taking up patrols through the town, the white armbands standing out against their green uniforms. But, unfortunately, it received little priority compared to actually protecting the town itself.

Which brought them to the real problem, Twilight thought as she grimaced, setting the trash bag down next to a large pile of others. The Royal Army was here to protect the town, which meant they needed to prepare the citizens. Which, so far as Short knew, meant drills, emergency plans, checkpoints, Army patrols and even a specialized riot suppression unit on call to sort out any disturbances in the town that was too much for the MPs, but didn't warrant direct military intervention (a rather pointless statement, Twilight had pointed out, for these specialists were still Army soldiers). In other words, as friendly as the greeting had been, many ponies (even those in the crowd last night) still saw the garrisoning of Ponyville as a military occupation, a lockdown on everything they held dear.

"You better be right about this Short," Twilight muttered under her breath, watching the soldiers in the distance and remembering what the gray stallion had told her last night. Encouraging words, she remembered, ones that promised a minimal amount of change. But though they had both talked on into the night, Twilight knew that was one of the things that Short had absolutely no control over.

Another one seemed to be her own library now, with mysterious books popping up out of nowhere on subjects she hadn't dared to think of…

"So, ya found him last night?"

Applejack stood where once a heap of trash had only minutes before, a smile on her face and an ease to her stance that suggested a good night's rest, obvious evidence of a lack of her involvement in the party. The mage was still quite delighted to see the workhorse, and chuckled as she said "There you are! I was so sorry you missed the celebration last night."

"From what ah'm seein' Sugarcube," Applejack remarked, glancing back at the ruined town square "It's prob'ly best ah did."

Twilight laughed again, shaking her head as she turned back to her work, lifting another pile of trash into a fresh bag.

"So? Didja find him?"

"Who? Oh, right. Yes, I found Short." The unicorn was practically beaming at that remark, carelessly missing the bag with half of the trash in her aura. "We talked all the way into the night about anything and everything! He may consider himself rather low on the intelligence chain, but he's not giving himself enough credit!"

"Are ya sure –all- ya did was talk?" Applejack commented, a smug smile coming to her features.

A red tinge rose to Twilight's cheeks, and her next attempt to lift a bundle of trash fizzled out with a *pop* as she glanced over at her friend. "Applejack! W-we've only just…you can't mean-"

"Easy, sister!" Applejack laughed, elbowing the purple pony in the ribs. "Ah was just teasin'! Trust me, if ah suspected in any way, shape or form that you two were movin' that fast, ah'd be on your case…and kickin' –his- flank!"

* * *

><p><span>Canterlot<span>

Equestrian Armed Forces High Command

"By my stars, as I live and breath! Eagle himself!"

Field Marshal Eagle Eye hadn't been in his new role a year, yet already had more than enough stress from his job. Forms to sign here, battle plans to consider there, subordinates to control every left, right and center…the list went on and on to include political meetings, press conferences, supply issues, personnel transfers, fund requests, the whole nine yards.

And he was sick of it.

So when a familiar voice called out to him in the concrete halls of the oppressive structure known as High Command, he didn't waste time turning on the spot to find none other than Fancy Pants himself, one of Equestria's most successful business stallions, pacing down the corridor towards him a grin on his monacled face. Eye immediately broke into a smile of his own, ignoring the Army lieutenant who had been filling him in on some meaningless issue of new dress uniform patterns to consider, backtracking down the hall and catching Fancy in a hard embrace, both of them laughing from the impact.

"Fancy Pants! I was wondering what the hay happened to that balloon head of yours!" the Marshal exclaimed as they broke apart. "You still chasing mares up and down the streets?"

"As if you expected anything else!" Pants chuckled, straightening his vest. "And you're probably still ignoring your instructors and superiors. Although, you don't really have many left, do you Field Marshal?"

"Just two, but they're not really the type who liked being ignored!" Eye laughed, patting his old high school friend on the shoulder. "What happened, Fancy? Graduation hit and bam, you fall off the map for six years. Then I suddenly hear about you conquering the media industry single-hoofedly."

"Well, my 'disappearance' was helped quite a bit by you dashing off to join the Army the second that diploma was in your hoof. As for my wealth, I've found that if you give ponies what they ask for, they tend to pay quite a large sum of money to get it!"

With reminiscing between the two stallions, it wasn't long before the pair found themselves stepping into Eye's office, or breaking out expensive salt licks from the warm shores of Zebrabwe, tasty tangy things that sent shivers of flavor up Eye's tongue with every lick as he laughed with Fancy Pants, remembering days gone by in school when the both of them got into all kinds of mischief, rich and poor both. While Fancy had come from a family of quite considerable standing, Eye was a dirt poor colt from a small mining town with big dreams of soldiering to the rescue of his kingdom. Little did they both know of what the world had prepared for them, and it sounded as if Fancy had just as much trouble as him in find his success in the world.

"I tell you Eagle," Fancy finally said, a somber look on his face as he studied his salt lick intensely, as if looking for the flaws in its very being. "These past few years have just been the eye of the storm. Everything's finally going right for me, and now this war business comes around. Everypony's spooked and those who aren't are pretending everything's going just like it used to."

"I hear ya," Eye replied, setting his lick to the side. "The Army used to be a big, fat, bloated piece of aristocratic manure. No offense. But now, I'm losing senior officers all over the place to these new qualifications, and I can't even stand-"

He paused, suddenly, blinking as his ear twitched. Something had just come to his attention, a sound that seemed to be not there at all, yet was quite audible to him.

"Eagle? Are you alright-"

"Shh!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Eagle Eye reached down, a hoof feeling for the yoke under his desk. It would be rather obvious as soon as he pulled it out, let alone tried to slip it on. Fortunately, its shock value would make up for any lack of subtlety, and he continued listening as he glanced around. It almost sounded like…

Hissing. Hissing which had abruptly stopped.

"Get down!" he hollered, rolling onto the desk and using his momentum to simultaneously shove Fancy Pants to the floor and haul on the scattergun yoke he'd been working to pull out, just as the ventilation shaft above his chair burst open, and a lithe, skinny form flashed down, impacting with the chair and quickly slithering out of sight, mere milliseconds before two thunderclaps sounded and a storm of buckshot tore the chair to splinters.

"ASSASSIN!" Eye called as he lined up his next shot on the blurred form of the snake as it slithered up into his bookshelf. "VIPERIAN ASSASSIN!"

* * *

><p><span>Canida, Eastern Region<span>

Capital City of Ottapaw, Parliament Chambers

Public Debate to Discuss Funding for Military Expenditures and Status of War

Canida had long ago let the official ruling of 'pack' lay to rest, starting with their revolution when they had wrested control of their lands back from Prance, negligent after the passing of Emperor Neighpoleon. After this, it was decided that the only acceptable form of governing below that of a nation was the Line. It was all a matter of each doing what they were best at, and this policy had been what first started Canida's ruthless system of narrowing down assets to their best.

The largest contributing factor to the dog rapid rise to power as a nationalized species was a system of ruthless specialization. In the beginning, when dog populations were small, each tribe or Pack only kept careful watch on their population levels, to ensure they did not drain the resources around them. However, after the Prench left, the format changed. Each Pack decided on certain breeding priorities, like speed, sense of smell, or digging ability and then restricted breeding privileges to those who best embodied the desired trait. The new specialized phenotypes within the Packs were called 'Breeds' and quickly supplanted the Pack in importance as populations grew and Breeds with the same parent Pack became too distinct to share the same priorities. Each Breed contained a number of large extended families called Lines that were governed by a ruling Alpha and a Keeper. The Alpha reigned in matters of politics and merit (deciding who gets to breed) while the Keeper was tasked with deciding what would be the most advantageous pairings and maintenance of the Line's breeding records. Litters of pups from members of two different Lines were common, but had to be agreed upon by the Keeper and Alphas of both lines, with the pups joining the maternal Line. Determination of breeding fitness varied from Line to Line, including simple favoritism by the Alpha, but the method used by the most successful lines is a series of Trials in which the top finishers win breeding privileges.

To sum it all up, this rigid form of keeping between the different Breeds inspired the Lines themselves to keep the blood flowing pure and ensure that each could do their best at what they had been ordained to do. While this modified Caste system had been looked down upon by many nations, several more had to agree that it worked for the Hegemony. Without the worry of overpopulation, they could instead focus on other matters.

Like war. Or politics. Essentially the same thing.

Prime Minister Dale Mation stood at his podium in Parliament's meeting hall, watching the crowd before him ebb and swell with dozens of different breeds. Labradors, pitbulls, huskies, dalmations (his heart swelled a little with pride at that) and even a few smaller Breeds such as Chihuahuas and Poodles. Some were reporters, their cameras flashing and their pencils scribbling away at notepads, but many more were politicians from the Labour Party and the Global Union, come to watch the developments. Though they were not in any position to change rulings made by Parliament, they had the right to protest, and could most definitely throw up a cloud of negative publicity and red tape. Which was why the Evolutionary Democrat Party (EDP as it was called in the papers) allowed the other two political alliances to attend these sessions. Any kind of blockout at all resulted in a massive uproar that took forever to quell.

Unfortunately, he could only assume their intentions until he saw them for himself. The EDP may rule Parliament at the moment, but one wrong slip and power could shift at any moment. Everyone knew the Labour Party was gathering its supporters to bulk up their efforts, and the Global Union had been suspiciously quiet, as of late. Mation didn't trust them at all, with their peace-mongering ways. At least Labour knew there was no way to avoid the inevitable facts before them.

The current topic was, of course, military funding, and what they would have to take away money from. The debate had been going on calmly for almost a month, but Mation knew it was going to get heated sooner than later. Much like Hippogryph politics, tempers commonly flared, and Parliament never felt any restraint to keep from yelling, barking and howling at each other during a debate. Fortunately, it at least never came to blows like in the griffons' own debate chambers.

Finally, the buzzing died down, and all eyes were upon the Dalmatian at the head of the chamber, letting the Prime Minister know that it was at last time to begin the debates and finally pull the cork on this stewed up bottle.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mation began, smiling at the photographers as he spoke clearly into the microphone. "Those of Parliament and other political parties. I welcome you to the sixth debate of the year, our second emergency council this season." A light smattering of applause greeted him, and he was quite aware of those who didn't clap. They were not to be worried over, but not to be forgotten either. The Global Union had walked out of the last emergency session the second war was brought up, and the Labor Party had strongly disagreed to any such measure of hostilities. "Many of you are already aware of our topics this morning, so we can hopefully manage to cut right to the subject at hand here. As discussed in our last emergency session, we must decide once and for all our position on the global stage in relation to other powers. Our economy is on a fragile cliff, and if we don't do something to push ourselves back, we may find ourselves slipping into a crisis that will snowball out of control. To that end, we must then decide the finality of military budgeting. Now that the points have been addressed, we can begin the debate and hopefully reach a conclusion on the Hegemony's next course of action."

With any luck, as Mation had subtly planned and coerced, this 'free meeting' would go exactly as expected; the eventual conclusion that war was the only way.

It would not be good year to be an equine.

* * *

><p>(First, I'm horrible at politics, so feel free to launch into me about what I did wrong with the debate chamber! Second, have fuuuuuun!)<p> 


	6. Chapter 5: Trouble on the Homefront

(Man, guys. I don't know about you, but the weeks are flitting by way too fast for me. Christmas is now just around the corner, then New Years, and then January 31st. D-Day.

Dun.

Dun.

DUUUUUUUUUUNN.

Regardless, I have sworn to keep writing until the end, and as such I shall do so for you all here to deliver you as much of Ceasefire as I can until I am forced to leave my keyboard!

It just feels like its too fast, is all...

**Responses!**

**OMFG-Roach:** *pushes money back* are you nuts? I can't take profit from this, I'll get my ass sued!...wait until no one's watching. lol

**DoctorWhooves:** I personally feel that the Great Creator Lauren Faust left a lot to our imaginations with quite a bit of the vague details. But that's just me.

**Turdy1:** No. Equestria's not ready. Consider, if you will *blatant copyright infringement* what would have happened had Japan invaded the US earlier in the war. It'll almost be like that.

**XPatchX:** eh, I'm sure you'll remember them eventually. For now, thanks for the review.

**Trekkette:** actually, Canid was proposed, structured and filled in mostly by my good friend GBscientist. Go give him a call, he's pretty cool.

**Red Mark:** don't look now, but you might have another revolution to keep track of!

**The Socialist:** fortunately, I think I'm mostly done with debates and dithering in chambers. *PHEW* One of the first times I have ever actually watched a Supreme Court Debate.

Alright, we're good? Yeah? No, just leave the...okay, that works too. Okay, it's show time!

ON WITH THE FIC!

*neon lights appear and cannons boom*

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Chapter 5: Trouble on the Homefront  
><strong>

Canterlot

Equestrian Armed Forces High Command

Office of Field Marshal Eagle Eye

He fired again, reducing a shelf full of military theory tomes and history scrolls he'd been pouring over for the last few months to scraps of paper and splinters of wood, the buckshot rendering everything before it into a twisted mess. Eye was half-crouched behind his desk now, Fancy Pants on the floor but, surprisingly, not panicking. But he couldn't see the snake anywhere.

"The hay?" he muttered, straightening as he kept his teeth around the scattergun's bit-trigger. Abruptly, a bullet bit into the desktop, burrowing itself deep into the surface mere inches from where he was. Needless to say, this was all the inspiration the Marshal needed to duck down once more, pumping out two more shells into the general area.

"Well, this is definitely new," he said once his belly was on the floor next to Fancy Pants. The business-stallion was definitely shaken, but still seemed all together enough to remain calm as he smartly remarked "What, don't you get assassins all the time, Eagle?"

"'Fraid not," Eye returned. His head snapped around, the weapon with it as the door slid open, admitting two armored MPs from the hallway, repeater yokes up and ready.

"Marshall, we heard shots fired! Are you okay-"

"Get down, you idiots!" yelled Eye as another bullet zoomed past, slamming into one of the MPs' chest armor, causing him to stagger and gasp, blood oozing from the wound as he fell. The other snapped to the floor, firing a few retaliatory shots before she scooted over, her black beret forgotten in the chaos.

"Sir, all due respect, but what the buck is going on?"

"I'll explain once I understand it myself," Eye remarked, peering over the edge once more and muttering "He must have armor-piercing bullets. Crafty bucker…" As he spoke, another one of those bullets slammed into the desk again, this time punching all the way through into the floor. Fancy finally showed his first signs of panicking, his forelegs over his head as he cried out in alarm, the round ricocheting not too far from him.

Meantime, the MP mare keyed her radio headset. "We have a trooper down, repeat, trooper down in the North Wing, Sector 6! Field Marshall Eye is under attack! We need immediate reinforcements!"

As if these words were a catalyst, an angry hiss split the air, and Eye stood once more, blasting the bookshelves again and again until they collapsed. But this didn't end the threat, oh no. Instead, a flash leapt out of the wreckage, flying over their heads and finding residence among the filing cabinets.

"Over the top!" Eye commanded, and the mare leapt forward with him, rolling over the desk to the other side as Fancy, still at least in his thinking mind, scuttered over the floor to join them.

"Eagle, do something!" Fancy yelled, wincing as another bullet cut the air, this one slamming into the already wrecked chair. Eye winced as he heard the bullet cut past, thinking to himself.

"Okay, no grenades, no automatic suppressing weapons…how many rounds has he fired, four? Can't imagine him having more than…what, six? Maybe seven? Anything more would be too large, too bulky to carry around easily…"

Another armor-piercing bullet sliced past, this one again rather close. Eye wasn't wearing his personal vest of Army combat mesh, but he knew it wouldn't do any good here regardless. The dead Army MP in the doorway was proof enough of that. Armor piercing rounds could, depending on the caliber, punch through thick inches of plate steel, rendering what protection the vests usually offered against light-caliber rounds null and void.

"Why's he still around, sir?" the MP questioned, her repeater hanging at a readied position as she released the bit to speak clearly. "He missed his first shot, shouldn't he be gone already?"

"Good point," Eye muttered, listening closely. All he could hear was the clatter of hooves on concrete as their supposed reinforcements, a squad of heavily armed and armored regular Army troopers, came galloping to their rescue. No hissing, no more shots, nothing. Slowly, Eye began to stand once more.

"Careful, sir!" the MP hissed, reaching out to push him back down, but he shooed her off, bringing his scattergun up to rest on the desk as he scanned the office. Nothing. No bullets snapped past, no hissing met his ears. The entire exchange could only have taken less than a minute, but the office was already a ruin, filing cabinets split open by armor-piercing rounds and the walls cratered by buckshot. The desk was ripped to pieces and his chair was…nonexistent now.

He waited a few more seconds, raising another inch or so, a target no assassin in his right mind would ignore, before he stood up fully, declaring "We're clear."

* * *

><p><span>Northwestern Hippogryph<span>

Capital City of Istanbeak

Mobile Airbase "Alpha Dominatus"

When the griffons as a species halted their tribalistic ways and banded together to begin forming a nation some thousands of years ago, they done so here, on the peninsula in the middle of the Sea of Grafton, a trapped body of water connected to the Arcana Ocean by a sixty mile long river, wide enough for a herd of elephants to swim down without needing to change their natural pattern. This north-flowing river was known as the Strait of Grafton, the only way in or out of the Sea of Grafton from the water, and to get there meant you had to go through Istanbeak. As such, while the Strait was heavily fortified with naval forts and ancient towers bristling with heavy, old artillery guns, the Sea was relatively undefended from the water. The thought process was that, while griffons would easily be able to get in and out of the city at their leisure, the same feat for an invading army had to be nigh impossible.

Of course, now that every nation capable of waging war had some form of flight, that point had been rendered rather moot. Instead of a naval armada or a marching army, a group of airborne infantry could simply parachute into the city. Rather, they could if not for the heavy amounts of flak cannons, the numerous Airborne Legion and Ground Forces battalions stationed in the city, the six Sky Navy service fields in and around both parts of the city and the four enormous mobile airbases that constantly kept watch on the area.

Largest among them was the Alpha Dominatus, the biggest flying construct ever made in the history of the world. Stretching twice as large as a normal mobile airbase, the Dominatus not only held Airborne Legionnaires, but also had the lift power and storage space to hold several dozen Ground Force tanks, sixteen wings of Sky Navy planes and was connected to dozens of barrage balloons, and dirigible light airbases, all of which formed a cloud of canvas around the glorious flying fortress. It served as the Matriarchy's command center for their entire military, and always got top priority on fuel. In fact, as a precaution to ensure that the airbase remain flying, several tubes lined the bottom of the construct, each filled to capacity with captured cloud, made as dry as could be thanks to the steam valve network lining the airbase, providing maximum lift and taking the strain off the enormous engines. While all mobile airbases copied this pattern with box-cells filled with hydrogen and more dry clouds, only Alpha Dominatus used the techniques in such large amounts. The extra tubes were not on any other construct.

The Alpha Dominatus was a work of art, proving its superiority over its lesser brethren and sheltering the city of fliers below from not only foreign invasion but the desert sun as well, on occasion. The city now straddled the Strait, pouring over both sides to extend outwards. While the griffons were a technologically modern species (comparatively speaking, that is, being nowhere near Canida's or that island nation in isolation's high points) the city was old, its stone walls and towers still standing after millennia of age, and the newer parts echoed their former constructions, made of stone and brick taken from the sands themselves, making a strong city that would endure through the ages. So the thought went.

A pair of Squall Interceptors tore past, their liquid fuel engines roaring as they peeled around the collection of hydrogen inflated balloons, twisting away out of sight. While the Matriarchy, like Equestria, powered most of their machines with smokeless coal, the far more powerful (if more expensive) ethanol was a perfect counterpart to the Canid kerosene, and the griffons grew wide swathes of corn in their more lush southern regions just for this purpose. While Equestria was flipped the other way (due to their unnatural magic emanating from the central helix of magic energy in Canterlot) Hippogryph was completely natural, which caused quite a few weather phenomenon on a regular basis at the border, where the two ecosystems met unnaturally.

Matriarch Scythia Steelclaw shook her head as she turned from the magnificent view of the scrubland beyond, trying to steer her mind away from the ponies. Damn Luna and her new war-preparations! It was thanks to ponies that they were in this mess to begin with.

Steelclaw turned to the assembled officers before her, all of them wearing green uniforms save for two. Also like Equestria, the Ground Forces wore tan, and Colonel Bloodwing even had his peaked black cap pulled low over his brow, the medals pinned to his chest gleaming in the bright electric lamps. The Matriarchy placed emphasis on female rights, pointedly excluding males, which meant that for Bloodwing to have reached the level he did in his lifetime was nothing short of astounding, promptly earning him respect in several circles, even the most sexist, male-hating groups. As such, Steelclaw made sure he was put in charge of the Ground Forces defending their capital, as such a blow here would mean the disabling of the entire empire at large. As they weren't meant to be mobile and fast as the Airborne Legion, Ground Forces (though lacking in number and more advanced equipment, using older weapons instead) had access to heavy armor instead, ranging from Welterweight light tanks (much more heavily armored and armed than the Legion's Featherweights) and the Cruiserweight medium tanks (kingpin of the Matriarchy's armored vehicles) that crawled along beneath them, patrolling the city for any signs of invasion, to the Bantam half-tracks that carried soldiers back and forth in warzones. After all, griffons didn't possess magic, and couldn't fly more than a few feet in heavy combat armor (the biggest difference between the Legion and the Ground Forces).

A blue uniform was nearby, adorning one Fleet Mistress Ravenspar, commander of all mobile airbases from here to the Protectorate of Kodiak. As the Matriarchy possessed no warships, the Equestrian modeled Sky Navy had absorbed many maritime traditions from its Royal nautical counterpart…another thing based on the ponies, Steelclaw growled to herself angrily.

Then there was Major Axeclaw. While not in full command of anything, the griffon had proven herself by uncovering Lieutenant Colonel Coldheart's incompetency, and had helped reorganize the airbase Artemis. As such, Gilda was here as part of an envoy of six Airborne Legion officers, all of them dressed in green and wearing their service pins on their lapels. This, at least, the Matriarchy had found on their own, rather than coped from Equestria.

Steelclaw smirked privately as she caught the venomous glances between Ravenspar and several of the Legion commanders. True, the Navy may command the mobile airbases, but the Legion had their own, and were gaining more and more all the time. The way things were going, it looked like Ravenspar and her fliers would have nothing left but planes, something even the Legion wouldn't touch.

Despite her amusement at the unraveling of military politics, she decided it was time to get to work, and cleared her throat, bringing all the officers to attention before her.

"You all know why we're here. We've got a lot of problems, so I won't spare any time for pretty openings. Kodiak's rising up, Canida's bulking up, and Equestria's arming up. Three very distinct problems and only one answer; war. One way or another, the Matriarchy will be pulled into this world war whether we want to or not, so no use fighting the inevitable. We need to choose a course of action and lay into it, not dilly-dally around with peace talks like Celestia thinks will work. So without further delays, give me your ideas."

Steelclaw liked to spring proposals and meetings upon her underlings to keep them on their toes and ready for anything. As such, though none of them brought any files or paperwork, she knew they each had at least a dozen thought running through their heads to have on hand for whatever she'd call them up for. As it happened, Bloodwing stepped forward first.

"The Ground Forces' immediate concern is, of course, the defense of the homeland and the capital city," the Colonel began, his voice steady and his eyes unwavering. "Though we're normally used in a defensive fashion, I think I can point out several reasons to expand our funding, grant us access to newer equipment and deploy the Forces worldwide."

Steelclaw tilted her head, ignoring the pointed looks the other officers sent at the Colonel. Bloodwing had always been a to the point male, someone who didn't dither around and said exactly what was on his mind.

"I'm listening, go on."

"It's simple. Though warfare has moved from the trenches back into the open field and is once more shifting from large formations to fast strikes and urban battles, the Legion is not suited for holding positions. They are primarily a lightning quick strike force meant to hit the enemy fast. While this means they and the Sky Navy can circumvent static defenses and fortresses easily enough, the enemy still exists in fortified areas that cannot be taken by their light infantry and armor. We've seen this before, and are seeing it again in Kodiak."

If looks could kill, thought Steelclaw as she glanced over at the Legionnaire commanders, all of them glaring venomously at the back of Colonel Bloodwing's head, then the male would be nothing but cinders at this point. Regardless, the Matriarch knew it was true what he was saying, and did not interrupt him.

"So, here's my plan; expand the Ground Forces and have them replace the Legion in Kodiak and the world at large in the territories that need to be garrisoned. It keeps heavy armor in defensive positions and frees the Legion and Navy for offensive moves instead of holding actions they would be unable to hold."

Scythia nodded, slowly. The plan had merit, and would free up the decidedly more attack-oriented Legion for offensive operations. As for the Sky Navy, they operated thirty-eight Mobile Airbases, not including the sixteen under the command of the Legion. Having all fifty-four of those monstrosities able to deploy and attack enemy nations would be like unleashing hell itself upon whoever opposed them.

Colonel Bloodwing stepped back, and Major Axeclaw suddenly pushed past her superiors, a sneer on her beak as if she'd just bitten into something extremely unpleasant.

"With all due respect to the Colonel, Your Grace, I have to say no. Replacing all the Legionnaires around the world would take too much time and too many resources. Kodiak is a problem, sure, but just send more Legionnaires there. We beat them once before, we can beat them again. Instead, we emphasize on what the Airborne Legion has to offer us in terms of a military that can expand globally and take positions before moving on. Sure, pop the Ground Forces in there if you like, but I say we concentrate on improving our best asset, not fixing something that isn't broken…You Grace."

Suddenly, Gilda looked nervous and apprehensive, all traces of confidence gone. The officers around her shared a knowing glance, expecting Steelclaw to bellow at her and kick her out of the armed forces for gross disrespect and insubordination.

To everyone's surprise, Scythia simply laughed, reaching forward and patting the good Major on the shoulder.

"Axeclaw…you remind me of myself at your age. I think you and I ought to have a discussion about the amount of pony weapons filtering into Kodiak…"

* * *

><p><span>Canida, Eastern Region<span>

Capital City of Ottapaw

Shandrahaus Pub

Shandrahaus had originally been established about fifty years ago by a griffon, back when the effects of the infamous Trench Wars (both of them) had been felt worldwide, and everyone was living in either misery or luxury. For those of the former, pubs were an excellent way to get those miserable souls off the streets and together again, keeping each other strong through the hard times.

Now, with the economy on a downturn, unemployment at record high levels and inflation ready to burst through the roof, the only thing that seemed to remain cheap was liquor, and lots of it. Dogs, griffons and ponies alike drank here, listening to upbeat tunes and playing card games in the corners. At the doors stood two large Mastiff thugs, both of them rippling with muscle and tall enough to reach for the ceiling with no effort. While the lethargic looks on their faces and large bulks belied laziness, the pair were twins from the same litter, and as such had both learned side-by-side how to put off a disarming appearance. In reality, they were more than ready to spring into action and separate any disorder in the pub. They didn't even need guns or clubs like a lot of enforcers carried, instead relying on their massive strength and paws.

Tonight, Shandrahaus was nearly full, though noise level was kept at a minimum. In one corner, a group of dogs played poker, smoking cigars and sipping beer from mugs as they bet with money they didn't really own. In the Pool Pit, another group racked the balls and played a gamble against a group of traveling Prench merchants who knew at least enough Common to get by. Over by the jukebox, two griffons were conversing quietly as they sipped at their drinks, their finished meals in front of them, licked clean to the bone. Almost everyone in here was some kind of worker or salesman down on their luck, looking for a place to be among friends.

But there was also another union keeping them united.

The door opened to admit a cold blast of air, sending snowflakes flying as the single visitor entered, dressed in a threadbare coat, thin driving cap and a red wool scarf. He was big, but that was simply because he was a Saint Bernard (actually, he was a little on the small side for his Breed) and his muzzle had many gray hairs around it, betraying his age. The two Mastiffs nodded in unison to him, and he nodded back, offering a quiet greeting. They knew this dog like their father.

Lionel Marks carefully removed his cap, scarf and hat, revealing the plain business suit beneath. Black, a single red tie, white shirt underneath and casual shoes. He didn't need the kind of elegance and luxury so many of his office associates desired, and wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. As the elderly dog moved through the pub, many called his name, waving to him with smiles of joy on their faces. Wearily, but still warmly, he waved back as he made his way to the bar, seating himself on a stool. Almost instantly, a cup of coffee appeared in front of him, and he picked it up, nodding and smiling at the Dachshund bartender who had given it to him.

"So, Comrade Marks," said a voice nearby, as six dogs suddenly surrounded him. "What did the imperialists say in Parliament?"

They were not gathering to antagonize him, nor were they trying to bother him unnecessarily. Here, they were all family, for they were all members of the Global Union, sick and tired of the way the ECD lorded over Canida like they were kings themselves, and everyone knew the Labor Party was being paid off with money and favors to keep the threat of them gaining any real power. But the Union had had enough.

Marks drank his coffee, not saying anything at first. This was not intentionally rude or a plot of any kind. He really needed to wake himself up and warm his old bones, and this was the easiest way to do it. Finally, he finished and set down his empty mug, smacking his lips before saying, in a deep bass, "Comrades, the imperialists are moving forward with their plans to launch the war." Groans and sighs emanated from the pub, for all had gathered around to hear the news. "And, to make matters worse, they will take the money they need not from the undeserving few, but from the bludgeoned many. As they have before." Shouts and barks of anger rang out this time, as workers felt their rage rise within them.

Nearby, a beagle stared down at his paws, his expression thoughtful before looking back up at Marks. "Then…what now, Comrade?"

Marks wiped off his mouth with a napkin, thanking the bartender as the next cup of coffee came with a bar pastry. He did not drink or eat it all this time, however, knowing he had to respond, taking only a bite and a sip, swallowing and saying "Comrades, we tried to appeal to reason. But the warlord Mation would not hear us, and the pretender Chewchill would not see us. We have tried to bring the imperialists to their senses for years. But now, it is enough. This war, if it fails, will be the ruin of Canida, not the savior of it. So now…we fight. Spread the word. Every member of the Party is to begin arming up and preparing for the revolution. We strike when the Hegemony is most off balance."

* * *

><p><span>Canterlot<span>

Equestrian Armed Forces High Command

Office of Field Marshal Eagle Eye

"But HOW was a SNAKE carrying a GUN?" Fancy Pants spluttered as he and Eagle Eye watched the MPs comb every inch of the office. The investigation had turned up no concealed snake, and they reasoned he must have slipped out through the secondary vent, which would make sense given its location next to the wall the snake had leapt at.

Eye looked at Fancy with a blank expression before replying "Magic. Snakes are one of the only other species in the world that can cast it."

"…you're not serious."

"You didn't know that? Look, here's how it goes. Viperia is like Equestria. It has a hub of magic energy at its middle. Theirs is not nearly as powerful, however. It allows them to at least lift things with telekinesis, at least, and they use weapons in this fashion."

He turned back to his friend, finding the large stallion staring at him with a 'you can't be serious' expression on his muzzle, his cracked monocle gone from his eye.

"You're just pulling my leg."

"No, really! Look, if I had a Viperian gun, I'd show you! It doesn't have a trigger, see? Or a handgrip, or a harness or any visible firing mechanism. It's because it doesn't need one. The snakes trigger it with their magic."

"Eagle, have you had your head checked? Maybe you hit it in the fight…"

* * *

><p>(I'm starting to hate myself for all these obvious references and puns I keep slipping in...anyway, you all know what to do!)<p> 


	7. Chapter 6: Luna Eclipsed Pt 1

And here we are again, my little readers.

And I know I've been lax in my promise for three weeks. What can I say, things have been busy near the end. Unfortunately, this does cut into my plans a little. All I can really say is that, thanks to my schedule, this will only leave me with one more chapter, if I can get it done.

But I will most definitely -try- to get it done.

And now, **RESPONSES!**

**DoctorWhooves:** close enough, my friend. But its not quite that simple. Griffons are more a mix of Asia and the Mediterranean countries, Equestria is several different English speaking nations, and while the dogs act and perform like both Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, some of their culture is based on Canada (mostly the names, really).

**Numbah six-sixtysix:** yes, it's going to turn into one of those wars. Because at some point, it -always- becomes one of those wars. I wanted the setup to be like a combination of WW1, WW2, the Cold War and the War in Iraq. A little bit of economic problems, some conflicting ideologies, a desperate defense, sheer arrogance, "preservation" and, of course, simple imperialistic greed.

As for Gilda, let's just say the conflicts between the branches stretch far more deeply and aggressively in the Matriarchy than in our own militaries. Enough that people would be willing to suggest stupid things.

**Red Mark:** it's a Canid political party that stresses cooperation with the world rather than taking an isolationist or militaristic point of view. Hence, why I chose them to be our socialists, ones who want -everyone- to live as they do.

**The Socialist:** a shame, really. Revolutions always seem to go sour in our world after a few years. But perhaps I can change that here.

**paxtofettel:** I blame both on my exhaustion that night. Sorry, man. Writing is hard work.

**TheStarsAbove:** I'm glad you decided to publicly join us, but a little saddened that you joined just as I'm about to leave. Ah, well. You'll have plenty to look over while I'm gone. Thank you for your support.

**CommanderRy:** trust me, its even confusing to me when I try to keep it all in my head. That's why I've written down outlines, plot ladders, development cycles. Yeah, this is a big thing for me, in case you haven't realized.

**Flyinpenguin117:** all i can say is this: you'll see...

And now, on to the-

Wait a minute, wait a minute. I just wanted to give another shoutout to both you guys and the readers on EQD. I wanted to thank you all so much for all the support and good reviews and positive emotion you've all given me, and I apologize once more for skipping out on you for three weeks while I went to play with the National Guard. So thank you!

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Chapter 6: Luna Eclipsed Pt. 1  
><strong>

Akal, Kush Region

Central Hippogryph

One Week Later

Akal was like many other cities out in the wilds of Hippogryph. It had simply sprouted up out of nowhere, as if it were one of the plants instead of a large collection of buildings and species, and the comparison might actually make sense with its flow of traffic and hum of energy being the equivalent of a pulse and heartbeat, respectively. It had also followed the staple for such rapid growth, mainly being the heavy amounts of ore in this area guiding in miners by the hundreds, leading to hangers-on and settler trains finding a place here, in the city at the top of the mesa, living off of providing (or stealing) from the prospectors and mining companies. Unfortunately, this meant that the place spilled over the edges, spreading out into the valley below, shacks and houses covering the mountainside, literally bolted into the side of the mesa on support struts. Where the excitement and thrill went, poverty and crime were sure to follow, as evident by the fact that Akal had one of the largest crime rates in the world, a veritable underworld that was practically untouchable by modern society and progressive law. This was, quite truly, a city still caught in the throes of oppression and fear.

But these things were only observed from Frost's mind at a factual distance as he and Boxer gently pushed through the crowds, attempting to find their way through. Boxer's contact was somewhere around this city, the dog had said, and it was up to them to sift through the poor, bedraggled crowds and find her. All around them, merchants called out their wares, various scents and sounds drifting from their stalls and shops. It was full rush-hour time right now, and no one was surprised to see two dogs pushing their way through the crowds, not when the area was rife with diamond dog activity. Of course, the two black ops soldiers would never pass for diamond dogs upon close inspection.

They were too clean.

But the dirty vests they wore and the fact that they barely concealed their handguns helped to maintain the illusion that they were simply a pair of no-good criminals stalking the streets, or going to an 'appointment' or even just miners going to dinner. At the very least, they'd avoid attention from the official authorities, what few were in this city. This was primarily why this area had been chosen for the meeting, seeing as such a small town didn't have any Ground Forces patrolling it, and the local police were lax and inattentive.

As they passed from the marketplace into an alleyway, Frost leaned in and muttered "Tell me about this contact of yours."

"She only goes by the name 'Hook.' Very prospective arms dealer and information seller. Very clever too," Boxer replied, glancing around at the numerous signs above them detailing various shops and businesses in the floors over their heads. "She's an ex-Legionnaire, and we can't pull up any personal information on her or anymore on her past. Completely covered her tracks for now. But it's only a matter of time."

Suddenly, Boxer turned, pushing through a thick, rusted door as he moved inside, prompting Frost to follow, leaving the grimy alley behind to be replaced by the gloomy interior of a warehouse, filled with packing crates and shelving to hold them. Occasionally, a flash of light would streak down from a window above, the ones that weren't caked in grime and dirt.

"This is Hook's place? Not very smart, leaving all her product sitting in the middle of town with no security."

"They're fakes," Boxer explained quietly, glancing at the shelves carefully. "She keeps only a little product on hand at any time. But all these boxes prompt the authorities to search the shelves when they pursue. It buys some time."

Frost nodded, mildly impressed by the ruse. From what he'd heard in just the last few minutes, it sounded as though Boxer had chosen well after all, which allayed Frost's worries. A little. Suddenly a flash of movement caught his eye, a quick motion from one aisle to another. He might have just imagined it, but Frost decided not to take any chances, turning and drawing his magnum, only for Boxer to push the weapon down with a paw.

"Easy," the captain muttered, glancing around warily. "Don't try anything. We'll be dead before we got to the door."

"Just how well do you know this woman? It sounds like you have her MO nailed down, but I don't want to leave anything to chance."

"Let's just say that sometimes, it's better to go to the ones who can't be tracked so easily. She'll get what we need, and she'll do it quietly." Boxer shook his head, immediately discarding the conversation as if it were water to be shaken out of his ears. "Anyway, what does it matter? We're here to do business, not investigate her or start a riot. Come on, Ice Dagger."

The two soldiers finally picked their way out of the shelves without incident, emerging on the other side in a large, wide open area devoid of anything save for a table and three chairs. A window overhead was open, casting a beam of light down on the three sets of furniture, bare save for a single manila folder on the top of the table. Frost frowned, but Boxer had been calling it right so far, and knew that if anything happened to him, the mission would be in good paws. Still, he got the sense that all of this was overly dramatic, like some stupid spy movie from the televisions.

They sat down, Frost expecting Hook to emerge from the shadows like some melodramatic villain coming in to monologue over their victims while the hired goods moved in from all sides. Instead, however, the two had to wait for several minutes before another door, on the other side of the warehouse, flew open, admitting a large, shadowy figure into the structure, followed by two more just like the first…and judging from her tone, the mood wasn't great.

"I've already told you lugs, either you keep them in line or I'm taking the cost of those mercs out of your organs and selling them on the market! No go do what I pay you to and make damn –sure- the Praetors don't catch wind of them!"

With a sense of finality, the griffon slammed the door in her goons' faces, huffing as she stalked into the warehouse on her rear legs, wings stretching and folding in irritation. She had all the earmarks of a soldier about her, from her walking stance and straight poise to the general way her arms swung at her sides, as if she was about to break into a parade march at any moment.

"Major Hound, how very nice to see you," she called out as she closed the distance. "I've been having an irritating week. It's about time I made –one- sale that I knew wouldn't blow up in my face."

"I'm afraid it's Captain now, Hook," Boxer replied as he leaned forward onto his elbows. Hook finally stepped into the light, and Frost took but a moment to study her over. A wicked scar across her face was concealed by the eyepatch over her right eye, telling that her discharge from the Legion wasn't quite voluntary. Strong wings twitched, folded along her back, ready to spring open at the slightest sign of a threat. She was still well built and sturdy, with several other scars cutting through her fur and feathers, though her overall appearance still well groomed and presentable. Obviously, she hadn't let herself go since she had left the armed forces.

"My apologies. You must have done something that couldn't be covered up."

"More like couldn't control it."

It was, at this point, that the griffon glanced over at Frost, frowning in suspicion. "You didn't mention you'd be bringing a guest, Hound. I don't need the Hegemony hunting me down as well like I'm some rabbit to be chased for dinner."

Frost scowled at that, not appreciating the insinuation that he was some kind of spy, but stayed quiet. This was Boxer's show, and he was playing by the rules so far.

"The Major is only here because he's in command of the operation. But we find ourselves in…interesting circumstances."

"Do you ever come to me when you're –not- Hound?" Hook replied, a smirk on her face as she too took a seat, flipping open the manila folder before her and perusing the contents, laying aside sheets of paper as she read them. The minutes stretched out, and Frost spotted another flash of movement in the dark around them. His eyes narrowed, and his paw twitched, but he left his service magnum alone. After all, this was Hook's ground. Might as well let her keep as much security as she thought she needed.

Finally, Hook reached the last page, flipping it over to join the rest of its companions before she closed the folder, saying nothing, her face blank. But Frost wasn't fooled at all, she had probably already reviewed the file and was simply doing this for show, to gauge their reactions and allow her to weigh that into her decision making. It was a game he'd played before with other contractors as well as Black Ops recruits, making sure he had everything in order. And Hook played the game very well, making it all seem quite natural.

"Hound, you realize what you're asking me to do, right?"

"Sixty contractors with light vehicle support isn't much more than what I've asked you for in the past.

"WITH standard issue Legionnaire equipment for all of them. And two Featherweights? Hound, you must not realize what you're asking of me."

Boxer shrugged, considering her words before nodding and replying "I'm asking you to put forward most of your heavy property and government-issue weapons for a deal in which you may possibly not only be traced and hunted down, but also one that will maybe have far-reaching consequences."

"Damn straight!" Hook growled, smacking the table with her fist, talons clacking off the tabletop. "I don't normally ask my clients what they do with the mercenaries I hire out, but knowing you, this is some serious shit. I'm going to need something else to make it all worthwhile."

Boxer finally got up off his elbows, crossing his arms over his chest, a brow raised. "And that would be?"

"Just what the hell you and those wolf assholes outside the city are up to. Gyrodyne heavy transports, stealth gear, -and- sixty griffon mercenaries with an airmobile halftrack tank? The Hegemony's planning something big, and it's either going to happen in Hippogryph or in Equestria. So why don't you tell me what I want to know, and maybe we all go away with our chances of survival a little bit higher."

"Negative," said Frost, finally interjecting. "The captain has revealed more information about this op than I authorized him, but the fact of the matter is that it is still Top Secret, need to know." The Catahoula Cur leaned forwards, narrowing his eyes as he stared directly into Hook's own. "And you –don't- need to know."

Abruptly, the soldier turned criminal stood, fast enough and with enough force to send her chair tumbling over backwards. In the corner of his eye, Frost spotted more activity in the shadows, but he didn't back down.

"Then we have no business, _Major_," Hook snapped, turning the rank into more of an insult. Neither one back down, glaring at each other heavily for several seconds before Frost felt a paw on his shoulder, gently but insistently pushing him back.

"Ice Dagger. This is how things are done. In high profile ops like this, you need to give a little to get a little."

Frost glanced over at Boxer, a hackle raised as he prepared himself to bark at his teammate for insubordination and compromising the mission. However, just as he was about to let it loose, his lip lowered, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He'd let his anger flare, let his composure break. That didn't happen often. This was Boxer's element, and he was getting himself frustrated. He should trust that Boxer wouldn't compromise the mission. Sighing, he sat back, gesturing for his teammate to continue.

"All yours, Berzerker."

Boxer stood, leaning in to bring himself to eye level with Hook.

"I recommend you stay as far away from the border as possible. Go to Istanbeak, Zebrabwe, the Viperian Confederacy, Prance, -anywhere- but around here. I guarantee you, within the next year; this place will either be in ruins or filled with ponies."

* * *

><p><span>Ponyville<span>

Nightmare Night

Though the festivities wouldn't be kicking off until the evening, Ponyville still wore the garish and ghoulish decorations commonly associated with the Equestrian holiday, the celebration of all things scary as well as the modern form of the ancient ritual to keep away Nightmare Moon. Masks and scary faces, insects and other forms of scare-tacular dotted the town, across the booths and through the trees. Even Ponyville HQ was feeling the holiday cheer, with spider webs and scary signs decorating the barracks and mess halls. One of the Knights had even been found parked in front of the police station with what looked to be blood smeared on its treads and the front, a false severed head dangling from the cannon's barrel. Fortunately, the red liquid was simply paint, but the crew received a thorough dressing down and were ordered to clean it up…but not before Colonel Di'ac ordered a photo to be taken of the battlewagon before it was scrubbed down.

As Short trotted alongside his squad, listening to their hooves hit the ground in unison, he could feel in the air that winter was coming. The Weather Team had already begun casting in colder winds to encourage the plants to begin the next cycle, and most of the birds had already flown south for the winter. Rumor was, the new autumn camouflage uniforms and body armor would be coming in soon, prompting an immediate re-equip of all forces and the reapplication of camouflage paint to the Defender steamwagons and Knights patrolling the countryside and ferrying soldiers around (even though by the time the uniforms arrived, it would probably be time to switch to winter camouflage). It had only been a week so far, but the Army had so far managed to integrate itself nicely to Ponyville, and the troopers and steamwagons patrolling the streets were no longer a source of the many stares that had plagued their first few days.

But matters like that could be attended to later. As Ponyville came up once more on the horizon, Short trotted forward to put himself up at the front-left of the group, looking over the squad. Every morning, it was the same thing; get up and go trot for almost a full hour and come back, all with twenty-pound saddlebags on. The other fifty soldiers in the platoon were trotting in unison nearby as well, watched carefully by their sergeants. But it wasn't in silence, no.

"SERGEANT STOP!" called Lieutenant Roseluck, up at the head of the group, leading the exercise. "TAKE THE CALL!"

"Call to me!" Short replied, taking over order of the cadence, quickly pulling one from his mind, a popular rhyme Sergeant Gunn had liked to use when they were out in file.

"Up in the mornin', outta the rack!" he called out.

"UP IN THE MORNIN', OUTTA THE RACK!" the entire platoon replied.

"Greeted at dawn with an early attack!"

"GREETED AT DAWN WITH AN EARLY ATTACK!"

"The Sergeant rushes me off to chow!"

"THE SERGEANT RUSHES ME OFF TO CHOW!"

"But I don't eat it anyhow!"

"BUT I DON'T EAT IT ANYHOW!"

"Hail oh hail oh Infantry!"

"HAIL OH HAIL OH INFANTRY!"

"Queen of battle, follow-"

"LIEUTENANT! ARMOR COMING UP!"

Suddenly, almost all of the platoon were glancing back, looking at the dust clouds on the horizon and staggering, off-march at the sudden revelation of armored vehicles on the same road as them. Fortunately, Roseluck heeded Sergeant Rivet's cry, snapping orders to her NCOs quickly. "Alright, c'mon! Move 'em off the road and out of the way!"

"Yes ma'am! You heard the lieutenant! Get off the road in file order and fall in, double time!"

Quickly, the column of mostly rookie soldiers fell in on itself, disorganized and confused for only a second before it reemerged on the side of the road, strung out into two long lines, every recruit right back in the order they had started in. Short felt a little hint of pride in his chest to see that the recruits' training was finally paying off. What they had learned in basic was still ingrained in them from all the blood, sweat and tears, and thanks to the exercises done every morning here, they were adjusting to the way the platoon worked with ease.

It didn't take long for the armored column to catch up to them. But while Short had expected Defender steamwagons or Knight battlewagons, what crested the hill and proceeded to roll past were neither and more at the same time. Large than a battlewagon by half-again, swathed in armor and wielding long-barreled cannons, the behemoths were enormous, noisy and intimidating, capturing the attention of everypony present, even the sergeants, most of whom were hardened soldiers who had fought with the 71st in Stalliongrad. Short glanced over at Azure, thinking she might have some clue as to the information about this mystery, but the draft mare looked as astonished as everypony else.

Everypony except the lieutenant, it seemed. Roseluck simply watched calmly, nodding a bit as if slightly impressed but not completely sold on a cheap trick. She must have known the tanks were rolling by, but Short hadn't even known Equestria was producing the armored behemoths of their own.

As soon as the last tank rolled by, Lieutenant Roseluck stepped out in front of the platoon, calling out "Platoon, atten-shun!"

On reflex, all the stallions and mares swiftly slammed their hooves together, backs straight and heads held high, eyes fixed forward. From this position, nopony was allowed to move any part of their body, not even their eyes. Though the sergeants had to assume the same position, they at least did so where they could keep an eye on their soldiers, and quickly chew them out afterwards. While it was no longer basic training, maintaining soldiers in a war-prep environment meant you were always being watched.

"Troopers, the vehicles you saw were prototype Crusader tanks, belonging to the Royal Armed Forces of the Kingdom of Equestria. These glorious machines are here with the 34th Armored Battalion, who is field testing these weapons alongside our conventional Knights and troops. Hooah?"

"HOOAH!" the entire platoon roared back, eyes still fixed forward. Roseluck had simply made sure they were paying attention, not giving them a dismissal or the order to relax.

"Therefore," Roseluck continued, pacing in front of the platoon. "You are free to speak of it to each other and to the townspeople, as they will be in full sight of everypony in Ponyville. However, you are hereby ordered to not include their names or existence in your letters or divulge information regarded as Classified that you may hear to –anypony-. Those who do so will find themselves court martialed. Hooah?"

"HOOAH!"

"Then let's get back, platoon, and prepare for the festivities tonight."

* * *

><p><span>2 Hours Later<span>

Fluttershy's House

"Angel, you need to –stop- feeding the Timberwolves, or they'll never go away and they'll scare everyone! Um, that is, if you would please?"

Angel Bunny was sick and tired of his owner's meekness and unwillingness to put a hoof forward for herself. It was like this all the time, the white rabbit knew as he ignored the pregnant mare, nibbling on a carrot with no haste as he listened to the radio lazily, rubbing his round belly. It was too easy living off of Fluttershy, he decided. He would leave for a more challenging prospect, but he had a good life here. Maybe he'd stick around for a while longer.

"ANGEL! Stop feeding the bucking Timberwolves, or so help me, I will RIP YOU APART!"

Abruptly, the rabbit had a very angry, very yellow, very pregnant mare in his face, and his eyes instantly widened, staring at the enraged Fluttershy before nodding slowly, not trusting himself to do anything else.

"Ah…good. Thank you, Angel," the mare said, straightening up with a bashful look on her face, causing Angel to immediately slide down off the chair and sneak off. He needed to get out of this crazy horse's house.

Fluttershy sighed, leaning forward and turning off the radio, not willing to listen to another news report about some Marine unit getting slaughtered in Zebrabwe or of the negotiations with Prance, or the troubles in Canida or any of the problems in the world. Why was everything falling apart at once? Why couldn't everypony just get along and learn to live with each other like here in Ponyville?...but perhaps Ponyville wasn't such a good example after all.

Twilight…what had happened to her? She'd become so withdrawn and absorbed in little projects like translating books that she was forgetting to spend time with her friends. She never spoke of what happened in Stalliongrad, and not even Spike would relate the details. Fluttershy hoped that this was a phase, though she had to admit it was better than the mage shutting herself away for weeks on end.

Applejack was constantly distant, always distracted by something, though Fluttershy suspected it was Rainbow Dash running off to enlist that had set this course. The two of them had argued for an entire week before suddenly becoming quiet, and Dash had then just left.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie seemed to be the only ones unchanged through all of this, Rarity still keeping her chin up and trying to be supportive of everypony and Pinkie throwing parties and goofing off to keep them all entertained.

But Fluttershy knew that the truth was there; they were all being driven apart by this war, one way or another. Some nights, she would lie awake and wonder what life might be like if Stalliongrad, the root cause of all their problems, had never happened. Or, at least, if Twilight hadn't been there. What then?

She sighed, resigning herself to an early bedtime. These mood swings were really not doing much to help her out, but she still had several months left to suffer through and no sign of-

Knocking. At the door. Her head perked up a little, only half interested in finding out who it was. "It's unlocked. Come in." Really, maybe she should have thought that over. She had no clue who that was, and it might be some creepy stalker pony or maybe a burglar or maybe-

"Sweetcake?"

Or maybe, Fluttershy thought as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, hooves coming up to cover her mouth in shock…

Maybe it was Mac, coming through the door dressed in his tan Royal Army uniform, removing the black cap from his head as he smiled softly down at her.

And maybe, she realized, she was hugging him and hadn't even remembered launching herself at him.

But, for the first time in a long time, Fluttershy found that she didn't really care about the details.

* * *

><p><span>Public Library<span>

That Night

The tome before her refused to surrender its secrets to Twilight. Though she had successfully opened the lock on the first night, the pages inside were inscribed in a language she didn't comprehend, and the book pulsed with an energy that, quite frankly, she was afraid to explore. And yet, all the translation tomes she had were hovering around her head, from dead languages, to obscure dialects to older, forgotten alphabets. But she hadn't gotten far, only connecting up a few words here and there, and the first time she had managed an entire sentence, it had simply been gibberish!

"What are you saying?" she muttered, a quill furiously scribbling notes onto a scroll of parchment nearby, already covered back and front with her notes written here and there. This word could mean that, or perhaps the sentence structure was like this, or maybe even-

"Come on, Twilight! We're going to be late for the Nightmare Night Festival!"

Twilight blinked, glancing down at herself and realizing that she was, in fact, staining her Starswirl the Bearded costume with ink, a tremendous annoyance since she spent so much time making the danged thing. Still, Spike's voice had been just what she'd needed to snap to once more, glancing at her clock and realizing that she was, indeed, late.

Another night, then. The tome would always be there, after all.

* * *

><p>"Hey, look! We're here already! Should we get something to eat?"<p>

"I think someone's already full, Twilight."

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her guess, and she grinned as Short emerged from behind a tent, dressed in his new orange and brown autumn fatigues, a duty cap squared away on his head. Unlike the residents of Ponyville, the soldiers had been forbidden by Colonel Di'ac for joining in on the celebration. Nopony knew for certain why, but the current suspicion was that the commander believed Nightmare Night to be an insult to the Commander in Chief, and as such refused to partake of the holiday or let her troopers dress up.

"Short! You made it!"

The gray stallion shrugged, as if it wasn't much of an impressive feat, a small smile on his muzzle nonetheless. "I had a leave pass, and that hasn't changed."

The two glanced down as the little dragonling belched, Twilight staring in disapproval at Spike's embarrassed face. Giving the assistant a pat on the back, the sergeant pushed Spike back up into a sitting position, surreptitiously pushing Spike's incredibly large pile of candy (how the hay had he gotten his claws on that, anyway?) away before quickly changing the subject.

"You see the new reinforcements we got today? A whole column of armor from the 34th rolled through today! I'd love to see them in action."

Twilight frowned, trying to remember everything she could. Though it had been a spectacular sight, the tome had been first and foremost on her mind, and she'd spared the tanks only a few seconds before she turned back. But she did remember at least one thing about the strange, hulking iron behemoths.

"I don't remember seeing them anywhere in Stalliongrad. Do you?"

"No, because they're brand new. Prototype Crusader tanks, but I'm not allowed to say much more than that." Short gave a helpless 'what-are-you-going-to-do' shrug, the look on his face begging Twilight to –not- ask more. Which was rather odd. Usually Short was more than willing to discuss the Army and the military in general. But, Twilight reasoned, if he had his orders, they were his orders. So, instead, Twilight smiled and replied "I'd actually like to get a better look at them. I'm afraid I was a little busy when they rolled through."

Relieved, Short nodded. "They'll be around a bit. And you'll definitely hear them, firing those big cannons. But I'm more curious about our air reinforcements."

"Wait. I thought the Army Sky Corps was absorbed into the Air Force."

"It was," said a voice from above, and all three heads swiveled upwards, two freezing in shock, eyes wide and jaws dropped. There, hovering right above them, was none other than Rainbow Dash herself! While Twilight had known Dash was a full-time combat flier in the Air Force, she hadn't realized exactly what that entailed, but now that she saw the padded ballistic armor and the blue flight-suit underneath, it took on a whole new meaning for her. She wouldn't even have realized it was Dash, but her mane and tail hadn't been covered, displaying that patented rainbow pattern. That and she'd taken off her helmet.

"Rainbow Dash?" she called, head tilting to the side in part confusion part relief. "What are you doing here?"

"That's Flight Lieutenant Rainbow Dash to you, civilian!" Dash said, rubbing her chest with a hoof before lazily inspecting it, as if she was some great hero absorbing the praise of her fans. "I'm here with the 16th Fighter Wing. And I'm technically supposed to be on patrol. But I'll see ya, Twilight! Spike!"

With that, the tomcolt twisted in the air, pulling away into the black sky with several strong flaps of her wings.

"So, that was Rainbow Dash?"

* * *

><p>As Ace came up with an apple in his jaw, Applejack grinned, knowing the athlete would soon find the caramel filling she'd carefully prepared for her apples. It was a new product she was selling, called Stuffed Apples. Hopefully, Nightmare Night would be the perfect way to market more of her family's business...if most of Ponyville wasn't already buying from Sweet Apple Acres. She frowned a little at that realization, but it was alright. Finally, after so many weeks, things were looking up for her, and she'd just pulled herself out from her funk...<p>

"Happy Nightmare Night, Applejack!"

She turned to find Spike, Twilight and one of the Army soldiers in his brown and orange look-like-Granny-Smith's-vegetable-soup camouflage approaching. Judging by how Twilight had described him, Applejack assumed that this was the infamous Sergeant Short Stop ("Trying saying that ten times fast!" she'd joked the first time she'd heard his name) and she turned to the group.

"Howdy, Spike. Hey, Twilight. And you must be..."

"Sergeant Stop, at your service, ma'am."

"Polite too? Oh, Twilight you got yourself a good one."

She expected Twilight to color a bit at the cheeks and glance away shyly before changing the topic to her costume, but instead the mage was frowning, a troubled look on her face. Applejack felt her own smile slipping, a feeling of dread setting over her.

"Twilight...what's wrong?"

"Rainbow Dash is back."

Applejack blinked, feeling something jerk in her chest, which felt suspiciously like her heart skipping a beat.

"Wh...what?"

"We just saw her fly over, she's been stationed here, in Ponyville."

"When?"

"A few minutes ago-"

Quickly, Applejack pushed past, cantering into the crowd, her face affixed in determination and...hurt?

"What was that about?" asked Short, looking confused as he glanced between the disappearing Applejack and Twilight. Spike shrugged, all the subtle nuances of romance and relationships lost on him as well. Twilight sighed, knowing she now had to fight against the stereotypical male thickness of the head.

"Rainbow Dash and Applejack are an item, remember? Or...they were."

"Were?" Short muttered, frowning again as he glanced at the sky this time. "Well...I suppose I can see now. A lot of soldiers tell me deployments wreck more couples than anything else."

In the apple tub, Ditzy popped up, the plug to the vessel clutched in her teeth as she pulled excitedly, mistaking it for an apple. Unfortunately, this had the effect of draining out the green water, and she frowned as she felt herself sinking.

* * *

><p>"Everypony, drop some candy and let's get out of here!"<p>

As Pinkie furiously upturned her candy bag, dumping out her hard earned chicken-suited loot, Short chuckled, shaking his head.

"In Savanneigh, we didn't give out that much candy. We believed Nightmare Moon hated sweets and would get even more offended. Instead, we all left a sample of our harvest at the base of her statue out in the Molasses Marsh, just to be sure..." He glanced down, hoping Twilight found some amusement in the contrast, but when he received no reply, he frowned. "Twilight? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" the student snapped, a look of frustration etched across her features. "What's wrong is things are going down the drain! My friends are all back, but nothing's getting better! Applejack and Rainbow Dash were fighting so much before Dash was deployed, they never sent each other letters! Nightmare Night was supposed to be a happy festival, but its already becoming another day ruined by everypony's issues."

"Calm down, Twilight. These things happen. Nothing we can do by lamenting on the past. Got to think of how to fix it in the future." Short smiled. "I mean, it's not like there's some pony with a time machine who just -happens- to travel back and forth to fix issues or something."

Miles away, next to his grand machine, a brown pony with an hourglass on his flank sneezed, dropping the gadget he'd been working so hard to keep in his hoof. He groaned, leaning down and trying to pick it up again...but it simply fell down once more.

Twilight shrugged, not looking entirely convinced, but at the very least not upset anymore. "Yeah...and who knows, at this rate, one of the Princesses might just come down out of the clouds and-"

She was interrupted, however, by a gust of wind blowing through, threatening to take off her hat and sending the fake beard she'd strapped on fluttering. Over their heads, the leaves on the trees rustled, branches creaking as the breeze intensified, turning into a full force wind that tugged at everypony's costumes.

"What the hay..." muttered Short, glancing around before he looked up, abruptly elbowing Twilight in the side. "Look! Look at the moon!"

As soon as Twilight glanced up, along with practically everypony else in the group, a bright light streaked out, like an explosion inside the very moon! Hurtling out of the flash like a dark specter on wings, a shadowy form emerged, all spikes and chains and blades, careening down from the clouds like a meteorite. As the shape approached the startled and fearful group below, the light finally subsided, revealing that the shape was a sinister looking black carriage, being pulled by a pair of dark, bat-winged Pegasi! It was impossible, that couldn't be true! But the carriage continued on, soaring right over the heads of the distressed cluster of foals (and Pinkie) before coming to an abrupt halt, hovering above them, allowing all to spot the hooded figure riding in the back of the carriage.

"AAAAAH!" screamed Pinkie, eyes wide as she bellowed "IT'S NIGHTMARE MOON! RUN! GET THE ARMY!" Screaming, howling and otherwise simply scared out of their skulls, the foals all chased after the chicken-dressed pony, Zecora on their hooves as they swiftly hoofed it back towards Ponyville, both to escape the terrifying visage, and to warn the rest of the town.

"Doesn't she realize that we -serve- the Moon Princess?" Short muttered, remarkably calm despite the events happening around them. Overhead, a bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the grinning face beneath the hood. The carriage moved on, dark clouds rolling in its wake, heading towards Ponyville.

"C'mon," Twilight said, cantering off towards the town once more, and it only took a moment for Short to follow in her wake. The two arrived just in time to see the hooded pony leap down from her carriage, falling what must have been two stories at least before landing gracefully, casting off her hood as another bolt of lightning struck. Immediately, ponies all around her fell to their bellies, bowing down to avoid retribution from the supposedly horrible and vengeful monarch. What had they done to deserve the wrath of the Alicorn of the Moon?

"Princess Luna!" Twilight exclaimed, starting forwards until her cape was snapped by Spike's claw, tugging her down to the ground and gently holding a claw to her lips to keep her quiet.

"COMMANDER ON DECK!" came a shout, and every Army pony in viewing distance of the Princess abruptly snapped to attention, leaving a few dozen forms around the square standing, their autumn colored fatigues suddenly appearing sickly in the dark light, Short especially as the colors contrasted his coat.

True, the call was a naval one, but the Army had never changed it to suit their needs, and it fit them just fine. Nearby, an officer (probably some lower lieutenant) called out "TROOPERS! PRESENT, ARMS!" Again, as one, all the soldiers saluted, hooves to the brims of their caps as Luna stepped forward, gazing out over the assembly. Not all of Ponyville was here, and neither was the entire regiment, but it seemed as though she'd simply landed in the largest open space with the most ponies in it. Menacingly, a flight of bats soared overhead, but Twilight suspected that was all simply part of the show. Or maybe they'd been disturbed from the forest. Or-

"CITIZENS OF PONYVILLE!" Luna bellowed, her voice so forcefully charged with magic that it seemed like a wind itself, blowing the caps off of several soldiers who squinted, but were forced to remain where they were, still saluting. "WE HAVE GRACED YOUR TINY VILLAGE WITH OUR PRESENCE, SO THAT YOU MAY BEHOLD THE -REAL- PRINCESS OF THE NIGHT!"

* * *

><p><span>Kodiak, Western Faunterra<span>

Kermode City

Disputed by Hippogryph and Geisterbjorn Rebel Movement

It wasn't the first time Warden Tempestia Bravencrest had felt fear. But it was starting to look like it would be the last.

"Get to the doors! Make sure there's none in there!" she snapped, slamming to the ground at last. Around her, the rest of Salamander squad did the same, their shock-absorbing leg braces allowing them to push off towards the front doors of the Grand Hall, the bears' equivalent of a central governing structure, more like an enormous feasting hall than a city center, however. Scattered around the building were the remains of the Ground Forces sent to protect the structure, some behind sandbag barricades, and others in hastily dug trenches and foxholes. The bears had smashed through here less than an hour ago, even though they had been repulsed by the Legion. Rebel corpses lay scattered around as well, in proportion to the dead griffons. A Ground Forces brigade had deployed into the Kodiak capital city as a vanguard to help reinforce it with heavy weapons and armor while more regiments were being mobilized in the homeland, but now it seemed that they'd arrived too late, and had made little difference.

In the distance, the city burned as the fighting between bears and griffons reached its peak, the sky laced with anti-flier rounds and power-jumping griffons relocating to other places in the urban battlefield. This fight had started less than four hours ago, countless rebels flooding over the city walls, up out of the sewers, even flooding out from the damned –buildings-. They outnumbered the scant Ground Forces and Legionnaires in the city at least four to one, and that was apparently just the first wave!

Checking her ammunition reserves, Bravencrest found she was down to only a handful of magazines for her LSG. Knowing that was no good, she immediately began scanning the area for fallen soldiers bearing the same weapon. Finding none in her immediate vicinity, she called out "Ammo check! If you need more, take from the dead!"

Swiftly, Salamander squad broke apart, those with low or no ammunition setting their weapons aside and either taking more rounds from the fallen armored griffons around them, some trading out for different weapons altogether. Tempestia herself set her LSG down and quickly picked up an HCR-27 automatic rifle from a dead Ground soldier, checking the magazine before collecting the rest of his ammunition and reloading. She'd fired so many rounds today her arms were numb, but she couldn't let her guard down for an instant, checking over the older weapon before confirming that it seemed to be alright. It was fitted with a rifle scope, and she tapped the adjustment screw a bit to set it to her eye, standing up after only a minute or so.

"Call 'em out!"

Two calls of "Set!" rang out, followed by "Need a minute!" The Warden sighed, glancing at her assembled soldiers in sadness and a bit of anger. She was down to three Legionnaires in her squad, not bad considering the fighting, but if they were the first reinforcements to reach here, they wouldn't be enough. She glanced over at the nearby burning husk of the destroyed Ground Forces Cruiserweight medium tank, grimacing as the smell of burnt flesh came to her nose. The bears were incredibly well equipped now, and had the numbers and organization to resemble an actual military at this point, and though she had no doubt that the tank had been split open by a Canid bazooka, she knew that most of the Geisterbjorn's heavy weapons were of Equestrian make, meaning they were lighter and more mobile for the big and powerful bears.

As if reading her thoughts, the chattering of heavy machine guns came to her ears, and she spun around to watch two Legionnaires get slammed out of the sky by a stream of tracers, tearing into the jump troopers and sending them plummeting back to earth. Another gunframe was nearby!

"Be ready!" she called, double-checking her new rifle. "There could be more of them around!"

Again, as if in reaction to her words, one of her Legionnaires suddenly spun around, falling to the ground a second later as the tardy boom of the gunshot rang out. The spray of blood pattered across the stone around the Grand Hall, and Salamander squad instantly moved to cover on the main path, weapons ready as the plaza was suddenly –flooded- with enormous, furry forms, charging straight towards them crying "Urrah! Urrah!" in their guttural tongue. A few other shouts of "For the All-Father!" and "Valhalla awaits!" met her ears, but at this point she didn't particularly care, raising her rifle and hammering off a burst of heavy rounds.

The bears fell as they charged up, a dozen in the first few seconds as heavy fire tore into them. Overhead, a pair of Sky Navy P-21 Lightning tore past, their machine guns rattling as they tore up the charging rebels. However, a chorus of deep thumps sounded from the next block over, and one of the ground-attack planes was ripped apart by the autocannon fire, spiraling to the ground and exploding as the other peeled away, most likely not to return.

"Dammit!" Bravencrest snarled, firing off another burst before she was forced to swap her magazines again. In the second she'd let herself be distracted, the bears had replenished their numbers and were charging again! She knew they'd be overrun if they stayed, so she called out "Fall back! We need to fall back and regroup!"

But no one responded.

She dashed to the other side of the tank wreck, glancing out, looking for any flash of olive vest or helmet. Surely they were just too busy to respond, but she heard no return gunfire, only the bullets being sent her way-

And then a grenade clattered off the stones nearby, detonating before she could even turn to run and throwing the Warden into the air. Darkness overtook her…

* * *

><p>She awoke to sunlight shining down on her face. The smell of smoke rolled past her nostrils, and she couldn't feel her lower half. She shifted, slightly, then found that her arms wouldn't respond. She was too weak to move, unable to feel anything. She opened her eyes, squinting up at the sky. Black clouds roiled past, clouds of smoke. It had been the middle of the night when the battle had started, and now it had to be at least noon. But why was she still laying here? Why didn't a medic come by or-?<p>

"Has Mation received the message?"

"Yes, Lord Discord. He reports that Parliament has agreed to all proposed measures, and the Hegemonic war machine will be rolling full steam in the next few weeks."

"Excellent, General. Kodiak will be a little while in rebuilding, but I'm sure with the protection of our new allies, the Dominion will be able to contribute to the war quite well."

"Then, it will happen, Lord? We will invade Hippogryph?"

"Calm yourself, Krastos. Mation has already emphasized the need to knock out the ponies first, and I will let him take his glory prize in Prance. But the real threat is Celestia. That infernal witch can easily trap me again if she gets all the Elements together and so much as –hears- my voice."

"Then, shouldn't we be trying to neutralize her ability to harm you?"

"Ah, that's already being taken care of, Krastos. I have an inside dog making sure of it."

Slowly, which as much strength as she could muster, Bravencrest turned her head to the left, wincing as she did so. The plaza was full of bears, most of them striding past heavily on some errand or another, but a large group stood before the Great Hall, staring up at someone. At the front was none other than General Krastos, the leader of the rebel movement! There had been a bounty on his head for years, but the Matriarchy had never gotten close enough to find him!

Tempestia tried to reach for her belt, and her arm finally moved, inching slowly down to the ALP-15 pistol at her waist…

"Ah! We have a survivor!"

Her head suddenly snapped straight up, as her eyes opened wide in horror to find a tall, serpentine shape standing above her. Where the hell had he come from? He hadn't been there a second-

"Sorry, but the Geisterbjorn takes no prisoners. Annoying, really. I was so looking forward to interrogating a few of you, but every body has to be accounted for, or your government starts pestering."

The muzzle of a Canid J2F suddenly filled her view, the yawning black expanse of the barrel becoming all she could see, and Bravencrest knew that she was feeling fear for the very last time.

There was a bright flash, a streak of agonizing pain, and then…nothing.


	8. Chapter 7: Luna Eclipsed Pt 2

Well, guys, here we are. January 21st. In four days time, I'll be stepping onto a plane to Ft. Benning, Georgia for nine weeks (hopefully). I don't think I could have timed it better to have paused this story at a junction where I can lay it down to nap without feeling too guilty for leaving you guys with a cliffhanger. It's been an honor and a privilege to write this glorious piece of work for you all, and amazing that I can get this much satisfaction just from your praise (and in some cases, a sense of completeness from your criticism. Weird, huh?).

I'm sorry I have to leave it where it is, but there's no way around it. Fortunately, if I'm not too busy at advanced training, I might be able to pick this up again before you know it.

And now, responses!

**Numbah six-sixtysix**:you know, I think that might have been your most supportive review yet. But seriously, your grasp of the setting so far is pretty good. And I also want to thank you for all your constructive criticism as well as your positive support. Thanks to you, man, I've been able to keep myself from making some very big mistakes in this story, and you've been one of the few people to actively look for my slip-ups.

**GBscientist:** yeah, I'd fix that if I had time and patience. But I don't. For either. Lame excuse, sorry man. But I want to thank you (in front of everyone) for being one of my co-writers and helping me hammer out a lot of details. Without you, this story would not be nearly as good as it is.

**The Socialist:** well, Red. Here's where I go to learn how to fight your filthy kind. (-lame Cold War reference joke). You've probably been one of my longest readers, if I remember correctly, and I appreciate that, man.

**Turdy1:** no. The Equestrian Crusader tanks are based on a low-tech version of the M1 Abrams...or maybe if a German Panther cross-bred with a Tiger-I and they had an offspring with speed, armor, firepower and almost as many mechanical problems. That's my thinking, at least. But you've been another helpful co-writer, so I want to thank you too for keeping my spirits up, man. You keep flying, Chair Force (-from the guy who's been sitting on his ass the past six-eight months writing this).

**EqUiLl-IbRiUm:** I had to check literally six times to make sure I had your name spelled right! Anyway, I'm glad you like the fic far, and I can honestly say that I'll be making this one of my top priorities on return, you can quote me on that!

And now...here we go.

On!

With!

The!

Fic!

There, I said it! I don't have to do anymore of those crappy leadups!

* * *

><p><strong>Ceasefire<strong>

**Chapter 7: Luna Eclipsed Pt 2**

It was quite a spectacular appearance, he had to say, watching Princess Luna come down in that chariot of hers. Of course, he knew that she would be arriving in some fashion from her previous days. Nightmare Night practically demanded the style, however much it demonized her. Still, he thought with his belly to the ground as he bowed like the other citizens, the fact that she was here at all was cause for celebration, in his eyes. He'd always hoped she would, but the news of her freedom from imprisonment seemed to finally make it a reality, and he felt an uncharacteristic wave of giddiness wash over him.

But then, the stupid pink pony had to make matters worse by squawking some unintelligible gibberish and cause a panic. And suddenly his anger was tripled at seeing the hurt look on the Princess' face, at seeing just how much these ignorant village yokels hated and feared her! Knowing this wouldn't end well, he stole away silently, trotting around the side of a house and moving into the forest. She would leave, and he'd never get another chance!

* * *

><p>"Very well, then! Be that way!" Luna fumed, trying and failing to hide her hurt. She threw her snout in the air, trying to maintain a superior air like Blueblood always seemed to. "We won't even bother with the Traditional Royal Farewell!" As she stormed away, she could hear an Army officer calling for the soldiers to let their forelegs down from their salutes, and the blue alicorn wanted to kick herself even harder.<p>

When she'd returned, Celestia had given Luna a few months to herself to get used to being back in Equestria. Having just been stripped of her shadowmancer powers (and thus the dark temptation that came with it), it had taken her some time to reclaim her power and authority. But, little by little, month by month, she had slowly regained her true form and magic potential, and when Tia had offered her the position of Supreme Commander (now Commander in Chief to keep up with the modern day times), Luna had gladly accepted it, allowing Celestia to handle more mundane details while she commanded Equestria's (very much reduced) military. Which left a rather large gap in her education, so far as she could see.

She grimaced as she continued pushing through the Everfree Forest, feeling tears sting her eyes. It was the same issue as before, being feared for who she was. True, she tended to be a bit unforgiving, but it got the most out of her soldiers. Unfortunately, the princess of the Night suspected that the combination of one-thousand years on the moon and no real social reintegration upon her return were having a bit of a backlash effect.

"It's called the 'Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice' for a reason," she grumbled, angrily lashing a branch out of her way with a bolt of magic. "We're supposed to use it with the royal 'we,' to represent myself and the kingdom! Honestly, how does society forget something like that?"

"I'm afraid Celestia's rule has been a bit too benevolent in the last few centuries, My Lady," a voice answered from the trees, shocking her into a wide-eyed standstill. "It's made the citizens rather…lax in their mannerisms regarding those of royalty."

"Who's there? Show thyself!" Luna barked, standing tall and attempting to squint through the dark. True, she feared nopony and no creature alive, but ever since Discord had escaped, she'd been keeping her RAIC soldiers nearby at all times (why did she have to leave those two with the chariot? Idiot move…) and the Viperian assassination attempt on Field Marshal Eagle Eye only drove the point home. However, if enemy agents were this deep into Equestria…

"Pardon, My Lady," the voice said again, accompanied by the rustling of leaves and branches. "I assumed you heard me coming before. Allow me the chance to earn your forgiveness for such an impolite introduction."

The leaves before her parted, and Luna glanced down, blinking in astonishment as a unicorn, dressed in a black mask and matching cape with red lining emerged from the growth, smiling up at her for only a second before bowing his head, letting the silver strands of his mane drape down around his neck.

"I am Dusk Mallear Silvermane, My Lady. A proud and loyal servant to the Royal House and to yourself still through all these years."

Stunned, Luna nodded, clearing her throat before replying "Uh, yes. It is good to have civil company that does not shy away from us or salute stiffly because they are compelled by duty. Rise then, Silvermane!"

The stallion raised his head, straightening as a top hat levitated out from behind him, positioning itself at a roguish angle on his head, precariously leaning against his horn. Luna had to check twice, frowning as she realized what kind of magic was powering his aura.

"Thou are a shadowmancer?"

"My Lady, all due respect to one of your station, but perhaps we should talk somewhere a bit more pleasant?"

Luna's frown deepened, her mistrust hiking a few scales as she glanced around at the leaves surrounding them. Perhaps the mage was right. After all, the middle of a forest was not the best place for a discussion, was it? With a nod, she bade he lead her on, to which he did without comment or complaint, magically stretching back the leaves and boughs before her, clearing a path through the undergrowth. She followed, wary of the tendrils of silver-edged black mystical energy that held the foliage away from her. Though not 'evil' by any means, shadowmancy carried a rather sinister air to it and had a bad reputation for various reasons, the first and foremost being its ability to kill. Shadowmancers had access to more lethal spells than another three other schools of magic, and her own use of it as Nightmare Moon had only served to heighten the fear and superstition, enough that there were no more mages practicing the art when she had returned…

Or so she had thought. Obviously, this gray unicorn was a practitioner, and the only real malice he had shown so far was a willingness to do her bidding. Oh, no. Was he a Nightmare Moon cultist of some kind? That would be a problem, wouldn't it? A dark cult hidden around Ponyville. She'd had to speak to the commander of this garrison, warn them and tighten security if that was the case-

"Ah. Not quite where I had wanted to end up, but better than nothing. Will this location be suitable, My Lady, or shall I find another?"

Silvermane bowed out of the way, indicating the clearing ahead, which held Ponyville's statue of Nightmare Moon, complete with plaque and the warnings about her. She sighed, staring up at the fanged stone mare and she strode out towards it.

"Yes, Silvermane. It will do, though we would rather it did not exist at all."

The unicorn let go of the bushes, following her at a respectful distance. "But My Lady. You should not shun who you were! That is, I believe you shouldn't. I have no business telling an alicorn of royal standing such as yourself…My Lady?"

Luna had lain down in front of the statue, staring up at it forlornly. She hated this stupid holiday, hated Nightmare Moon, hated war and shadowmancy and history and…and…

She hated herself.

"We should never have come," she finally voiced out loud. "The citizens still hate us. Better for them to see a military dictator who rules from on far but leaves their lives in more capable and kinder hooves. We should leave."

"No, My Lady!" Abruptly, Silvermane was at her side, a look of something akin to panic on his features. "Don't go! The ponies, they don't understand yet. I have been among them for some time, and although most of them are quick to judge, most are flexible in their judgments. My Lady, if you were to stay and make them see the error of their ways, I believe you may finally dispel of all the nasty stories and rumors about you…Forgive me." He hung his head again, his hat pulled away as he bowed. "I forget myself in royal presence."

"Nay, Silvermane. It is good for someone to remind us to keep our head. Perhaps thou are right. Perhaps it would be best for us to remain, at least within sight of the village." She cocked her head to the side, gazing inquisitively at Silvermane. "Thou mentioned not shunning our past self?"

"Yes, My Lady," Silvermane said, nodding as he placed the hat on the ground. "To leave behind who one was is to act as though it never happened. How can we learn from our past if we act like we never made mistakes? That is, My Lady, -if- we make mistakes."

Luna sighed again, bowing her head as she toyed with a piece of candy, still stubbornly laying there, having resisted her magic winds to blow it away. True, she had made the mistake of giving in to the draw of shadowmancy and abusing its powers, leading her down a dark road of betrayal and rebellion. Many were calling it jealousy, and perhaps they were partly right. After all, the only reason Luna had resorted to more and more powerful spells was to win the adoration of Equestria when compared to her more public sister. But then, of course, she plunged into the darkness of the magic, and-

"Princess Luna?"

That _–voice-._

Luna frowned, raising her head only to find Silvermane to have disappeared. A pity, really, and a rather confusing one as well. The stallion had been the only one to not shy away from her.

She turned her head, looking back over her shoulder to see the one pony she was hoping to not run into tonight; Twilight Sparkle, the purple unicorn mage, Sixth Element of Harmony. Dressed as none other than Starswirl the Bearded, strange as the coincidence was. Standing next to her was an Army trooper, a gray stallion she almost mistook for Silvermane for a second, before realizing that this pony's mane and tail were black, his eyes a shade of deep brown instead of the shadowmancer's purple irises. The soldier stood at attention in his orange, brown and yellow autumn uniform, his eyes fixed straight ahead. All crisp and proper, just as a soldier should be.

Luna rose, not bothering to dust herself off as she turned around, her mane and tail still billowing in the nonexistent wind (honestly, was that spell even –necessary- anymore?).

"Hi, my name is-"

"Starswirl the Bearded," Luna said, surprised as the flat tone of her own voice. "Commendable costume. Thou even got the bells right."

"Thank you!" the student proclaimed, glancing down at her robes. "Finally! Somepony who gets my costume!" At this, she flanked a rather withering glance up at the stallion, who remained frozen in position. Realizing he wasn't going to move, the princess sighed before saying "At ease, soldier."

With crisp military efficiency (and a few slightly stiff motions from coming out of such a rigid stance) the trooper parted his hooves, assuming the position of comfort. Luna's frown hitched a little lower, and she had to fight back a sigh. She really should be impressed by such movements and dedication, but she was starting to get tired of all this "Nightmare Moon" and "Princess of the Night" and "Commander in Chief" business and all the formalities.

The unicorn seemed to notice her internal debate, for she quickly spoke up once more. "Uhh…I, that is –we- just came to welcome you to our celebration. My actual name is-"

"Twilight Sparkle," the princess said, again rather flatly. This wasn't like her, all depressed as if she weren't a powerful alicorn. Deciding it was time to work herself out of her slump, Luna stood up straighter once more with regal poise, fluttering off the ground as she boomed "IT WAS THOU WHO UNLEASHED THE POWERS OF HARMONY UPON US AND TOOK AWAY OUR DARK POWERS!" Curses, she'd risen off the ground, and judging by the constricted moonlight, she'd conjured dark clouds. Again. Why couldn't she go somewhere and not bring a scary atmosphere with her?

Twilight had been blown backwards by the verbal tirade, and though the as of yet unnamed soldier stood firm, his cap was blown off into the underbrush, forcing him to squint in the gale.

There was a brief second of silence, during which Luna quickly banished the dark clouds, making a mental note to see the Battlemage Academy about weather effects. She needn't say she was having a –problem- after all (which was wasn't. She refused to admit it.) for she could simply pick up a few scrolls and be back to her regularly controlled self in no time.

"And that was a good thing, right?" Twilight Sparkle said uneasily, obviously hoping to not trigger another gale force wind from the Voice.

"But of course!" Luna declared as she came back to the ground. "We could not be happier. Is that not clear?" She leaned forward a bit to gauge Twilight's expression, frowning even more as the mare grimaced.

"Well, it kinda sounds like you're yelling at me."

"But this is the Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice! It is tradition to speak using the royal 'we' and to use THIS MUCH VOLUME WHEN ADDRESSING OUR SUBJECTS!"

Dangit, Luna was trying to prove a point, but it seemed as though all she was doing was agitating the young mare and blowing the stallion's mane and tail (what little remained from the military cut) around in the force of her voice.

After briefly readjusting her costume, Twilight smiled awkwardly and replied "Y'know, that might explain why your appearance was met with…-mixed- results." Surely this mare didn't imply there was something wrong with tradition? Silvermane's word floated back to Luna at that moment, however, and she reasoned that perhaps things –had- changed, and she had lost the culture shift. Those magazines hadn't said anything about social talks, after all. Stupid interviews.

"I think if you just changed your approach a little bit, you might be met with a warmer reception."

Was that student placing her –hoof- upon the royal harness? The Princess of the Moon was so shocked that she boomed back "CHANGE OUR APPROACH?"

"Lower the volume?"

And then it clicked. Luna couldn't believe she'd been such a royal idiot for so long. Such a simplistic thing was beyond her when addressing subjects, as she had always used the Voice before her imprisonment, and shouting at soldiers always ensured they got the job done. Of course, soldiers would never complain…at least not to her. "Oh," she finally said, trying to get her brain back in working order as her mind cast back to the little the magazines had said about making friends. Again, not much. "We have been locked away for a thousand years. We are…not sure we can." It was the truth. Habit made it difficult for her to address those of lower station (or outside her RAIC bodyguards) with anything but extreme regal presence. And, of course, Celestia was too kind-hearted to tell her she was doing something wrong. Perhaps being redirected to commanding the military hadn't been the best thing after all.

"Uh, ma'am. Permission to speak?"

Luna looked up, a little surprised to find the Army soldier speaking. His mane was still blown back, standing up straight as he hadn't raised a hoof to flatten it, and she nodded, not trusting herself to not blow him away. The soldier proceeded to fix his mane before he stepped forward, saying "If I could say, ma'am, we know a few ponies who are, for lack of a better phrase, complete social butterflies. I'm sure they can help you out, ma'am."

Spotting the triple rank chevron on the front of his fatigues at last, Luna carefully replied "Indeed, Sergeant? Than you may show us to these…butterflies, and perhaps they can assist us."

"Great!" Twilight chimed in, already looked pleased. Luna smiled. Perhaps she could still salvage Nightmare Night after all.

"Just, uh…Twilight, can you help me find my hat? I think it might have blown all the way back to town."

* * *

><p><span>Zebrabwe, Mt. Keller<span>

11th Equestrian Joint Expeditionary Force, 15th Marine Battalion, 7th Company, Platoon Unknown

Current Mission: Protect Wan'dara tribe and Root Out Carnivore Insurrectionists

They were ragged and exhausted. As the rain fell around them into the trenches nearby, he watched the leaves of the trees over his head shiver under the natural barrage from the water droplets. Zebrabwe was interesting, magically charged like Equestria, with a similar seasonal cycle. Moving into winter, the country didn't snow, for it was too far north and too close to the equator for that. Instead, it just rained. It rained on the savannah, it rained in the jungle (no big surprise, really). Hay, it even rained in the desert. As part of a Royal Marine unit, he'd been all over the country, trying to suppress insurrectionist activity alongside the zebra militias. So far, the hyenas, jackals and vultures were putting up a stiff resistance, much harder to root out than the zebras had promised.

Private Chesty turned to the equine near him, a zebra militiamare napping in the trench next to him after a long day. Like him, her coat was matted, covered in mud and dirt and everything else they'd passed, and the rain wasn't helping at all, just turning their trench into a soup bowl. Unlike him, however, she wasn't wearing a ballistic combat vest, just her green uniform, and instead of a modern automatic weapon was using an older model Mk. 20 Rifle Yoke. Phased out more than two-centuries ago, the weapon was Equestria's first semi-automatic rifle, and it had a tricky history to go with it thanks to reliability issues. It liked to jam at the worst times, but was so robust that it wasn't influenced by outside conditions.

That was the problem with Zebrabwe, Chesty thought to himself as he double-checked his Mk. 3 Marksman Yoke (of a much smaller caliber than the Mk. 2 but much easier to wield as well), peering through the scope and ensuring the high caliber rounds were still loaded properly in the feed. While the zebras had plenty of willing and eager volunteers, their equipment was even worse than Equestria, to the point where the dirt poor carnivore rebels were better equipped than even the Alliance forces were. That's what they were, after all. Just an alliance of tribes and clans brought together under Celestia's guidance to keep Zebrabwe safe. While Equestria had been hoping for a unified Zebrabwe, it merely stopped the various tribes from killing each other. Cultural divisions were still rife.

He peered out into the dark and rainy jungle once more, feeling the rain impact on his helmet and slide off, his green jungle uniform soaked and his ballistic vest pulling uncomfortably in all the wrong places. He ignored both, concentrating on staring out into the jungle. The red Earth pony knew the jackals were watching them still. After making two attacks on their trenches today, the scavengers still had plenty of manpower, however horrible their tactics.

A large, shadowy form moved past behind him, and he peered over his shoulder to be greeted by the gorilla Ogunwe, an impressive, quite intimidating piece of work. Gorillas were just as threatened by the jackals in the deep foliage out here, where the carnivores had been doing "cultural purges" for months now. Feeling they had no other choice, the gorillas had finally joined up with the Alliance, sliding in as heavy infantry. Ogunwe, for example, had an old Prench grenade launcher, the LSG-4, strapped to his chest, a bandolier of shells crisscrossing his enormous pectorals.

"Ogre," Chesty muttered, nodding at the enormous form, who simply grunted at his nickname, moving on down the line, his own steel helmet audibly clanking from the water. With no industry to call their own, gorillas made do with what fit from races like griffons or dogs, wearing imported armor and using foreign weapons. What a weird, mixed up place Zebrabwe was.

In the distance, somewhere deep in the jungle, a muffled boom rang out, followed by the almost inaudible rattle of automatic gunfire. Out there, in the darkness, a skirmish was happening. No one else on the line woke, having become used to the chaos of jungle warfare. Overhead, a squadron of Air Force Pegasi flew past, dropping several bombs into the foliage, which blossomed above the treeline in the distance, the tardy detonations echoing through the trees.

"Oh bury me not," Chesty muttered, singing an old song he remembered from his colthood in Appleloosa. "On the lone prairie. These words came soft, and painfully. From the pallid lips, of a youth who lay. On his dying bed, at the break of day."

A light suddenly shone in the sky, and Chesty glanced up, squinting as the rain began hitting him in the face. The light arced high, a cold blue flare broadcasting the order to ready for an attack. Zebrabwe, after all, didn't have radios. All up and down the trench-line, zebras and gorillas rose from their slumber, hearing the barked and brayed orders of their officers. Equestrian Marines rose as well, checking their weapons and setting aside whatever task they'd been occupied with beforehand. From out of the treeline, the yips and howls of jackals, accompanied by the high-pitched laughing of hyenas reached Chesty's ears, and his eyes narrowed as he checked his rifle once more, peering through the scope one last time.

And, as the order to charge was sounded, he muttered "On his dying bed, at the break of day."

* * *

><p><span>Back In Ponyville<span>

Army Teams Dispatched to Settle Panics Over Nightmare Moon: 6

Number of Times Pinkie Pie Encountered Teams: 6

"That was your idea of a Plan B?"

Twilight huffed, elbowing Short in the ribs as they approached the carnival ground. "If you don't have anything better to offer, don't complain about my idea!"

She smiled reassuringly back over her shoulder at Luna, who still wore an expression that seemed to combine extreme boredom with mild anger. That was...not a good sign. Definitely something to fix later on. Rarity had been more than willing to help Luna with her look, but the problem was...she'd tried too hard to give her a regal, royal look and Luna had wound up in a pink dress. Not the best of Rarity's judgements. So, now they were moving to Plan C.

In the meantime, however, Twilight leaned in a little closer to Short, muttering "Can you cut the dutiful soldier act? You look like someone shoved a stick through your...spine."

"I can't," Short replied, glancing first back at Luna, then around at the crowd they were passing, most of whom were falling to their bellies as Luna passed by, soldiers in autumn camouflage, tan dress and blue flight suits (when did the Air Force fliers get leave to come down, anyway?). Princess Luna looked mostly indifferent, watching the crowd with that same expression, as if something were slightly irritating her.

"If I get caught by an officer seeing me acting less than absolutely professionally around my -Commander in Chief- I'll get busted back to private. And that's just to start!"

"Alright, fine!" Twilight grumbled, though Short could have sworn her caught a small smile on her face as she pushed him away.

As they entered the town proper once more, Short could hear happy folk music, the splatter of launched pumpkins and the cheers of joyful ponies as the Nightmare Night celebrations plowed on. They must have been gone over an hour to both Fluttershy (and Big Mac, as it turned out) and Rarity to seek their help. Two strikes so far, Short thought, chuckling at the unintentional baseball reference. It seemed he could never truly escape the sport after all.

However, the second they crossed into the fairground, the music immediately stopped, and as Short and Twilight pulled back slightly to draw level with Princess Luna, ponies around them gasped and fell to the ground, hoping they would not be the next ones smited this evening. There were fewer soldiers here than earlier, and they immediately sprang to attention, holding their salutes until Luna had passed before they breathed sighs of relief.

"It is of no use, Twilight Sparkle. They have never liked us, and they never shall," Luna proclaimed, a hint of bitterness and sadness in her voice.

But Twilight was ready with a positive response. "My friend Applejack is one of the most likeable ponies around. I'm sure she'll have some ideas."

But Short was beginning to see the potholes in their proverbial road towards getting Luna 'liked' by the population. Even if they managed to convert this one village and change Luna's image, would it really stick now of all nights? And what of the rest of Equestria? Princess Luna was still seen as a ruthless and unforgiving military overlord, the counterpart to Celestia's divine, fair and just rule. Military slang was beginning to form around Luna as well, as the ever more popular shorthand term for being discharged or disgraced was 'getting a visit from Princess Luna.' He had his doubts, but Twilight seemed determined to make it happen, so he kept his trap shut.

Up ahead, the little foal named Pipsqueak was teetering on the edge of the tub of apples for dunking, the Trottingham native almost losing his balance and falling forward (it really wasn't his fault. Trottingham didn't celebrate Nightmare Night, so this was indeed his first ever, and he'd probably never been bobbing for apples). Before he could fall in, an orange blur was suddenly at his side as Applejack extracted him from certain splashage, saying something inaudible from this distance before ushering the little colt on.

Short suddenly frowned as he remembered something, eying the sky warily for any sign of an Air Force flier. Fortunately, the nearest one happened to be the observer scout on top of the town hall, so Short turned towards Twilight. "I don't know about this. She was pretty distraught after she heard Dash was back in town."

A flash of worry passed over Twilight's face, there for only a second before it hardened into optimism once more. "Applejack's tough. She's probably not letting it get to her."

But as they approached, even as Applejack fell to the ground (in what Short assumed was simply natural instinct rather than actual fear), they could see she'd been a bit torn up about the issue. Either that, or the tear streaks in her makeup had been from another problem, which just made things worse.

"Uh...Applejack?" Twilight leaned in, trying to convey the message to her friend. "The princess is looking for a little advice on how to fit in around here."

The farm mare raised her head, a look of skepticism on her face as she replied "'Fit in?' Really?"

But even a snarl from Twilight didn't change Applejack's mood much as she rose to her hooves, inspecting Luna with a fine eye before she shrugged and said "I guess if you want to make her approachable, you can start by playing a few games."

Luna frowned, obviously not liking what she was hearing. "Thou honestly expects us to play -carnival- games?"

Ah, so she knew what fun was after all, Short thought sarcastically.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><span>Maginhoof Line, Southern Prance<span>

14th Equestrian Joint Expeditionary Force, 7th Air Division, 1st Fighter Wing, 16th Squadron

Based from the _HMS Hippocrene_

Current Mission: Aerial Patrol of Western Border

Winter was in full force up north, carpeting the mountains and hills in a blanket of white, stretching away before her eyes even as the ground rolled past rapidly. How she'd gotten stuck with the freaking night patrol, she'd never know, but the cliffs and sea spray definitely were a nice view to see as you flew by.

Flight Lieutenant Spitfire grumbled as she felt her regulation Air Force flight suit pinch uncomfortably. Though rated against cold air, when they got wet the suits had a tendency to stick to a Pegasus' skin, and she couldn't wait to get back to the carrier so she could go curl up in her (comparatively) toasty bunk below-decks. Sure, she had to share the quarters with Marines now, but as it turned out jarheads weren't so bad personality wise.

She looked down at the scene below her, watching the Maginhoof Line stretch away into the distance to either the north or south, carefully watching the mountains to the west. Bunker after bunker rolled past, and the barrels of machine guns and artillery poked up from the fortifications, bristling with weapons and soldiers. Almost thirty percent of the Armee de Terre was concentrated on the infamous network of trenches and bunkers, meaning that any foe that managed to get over the Prench Alps and past their infamous and capable Alpine Corps would have one hay of a fight to push through.

But there was another possibility that Prance hadn't considered; a flank attack to the north or south from amphibious assault or even just a straight airborne invasion. Prench tactical doctrine focused on trench warfare, and while some aspects of it were still useful, the form in and of itself had gone obsolete so badly that even Equestria had shaken loose of it. The Republique was just an invasion waiting to happen, with trigger happy Canids just over the mountains to the west.

As Spitfire gestured for the squadron to come around and begin their return flight home, she glanced down once more at the trench-works below. Thousands of ponies, all willing to protect their country...all in a giant trap that could be sprung from three sides.

* * *

><p><span>Back in Ponyville<span>

"My Lady, you seem upset."

Luna wasn't truly surprised when she glanced up and spotted none other than Silvermane. But she wanted to be left alone, and thought she had made that clear. However, she supposed she couldn't send him away if she wanted to. She was so depressed, the alicorn couldn't even summon enough strength to teleport back to Canterlot. She would have to find her chariot, but her mind was so cluttered she couldn't remember where she'd told her RAIC troopers to park it.

"Thou have an odd habit of appearing out of thin air and disappearing without trace," Luna said morosely as she stepped past the stallion. Rather than be put off, Silvermane trotted to catch up with her, worry etched across his masked face.

"I apologize, My Lady. But I am trying to remain...secret, for lack of a better word. The citizens, delightful and accepting as they are, would most likely shun one such as myself."

"Yes," Luna agreed without hesitation, surprised that her voice held no true malice in it. "They would."

They continued in silence for a few minutes, and Luna found herself glad to have companionship that accepted her with no holds barred. It was clear by the reverence with which Silvermane treated her that he thought very highly of her. Shadowmancer or no, she appreciated his...affections, they seemed. Though the stallion had been normally calm and composed tonight, the brief instances of emotion he'd shown had made him rather easy to read. Or, so those books she'd read made her believe (Tia's trashy romance novels were actually coming in use after all).

"Quite a beautiful moon you raised tonight, My Lady," Silverman commented as they drew near a bridge. Luna glanced up, seeing that moon was, indeed full tonight, completely unintentional. Her acceleration of its cycle to allow the night to be lit up a week ago had been purely because she'd noticed a large amount of soldiers were being transferred overland that night and had, in a pang of compassion, decided to make illumination easier on them. And it had worked. No soldiers at all had gotten lost or separated from their units, and all had gotten to their posts in good time. But it appeared that the moon's cycle had been pushed along far enough to be full tonight. She hadn't even noticed as she'd raised it this evening before departing for Ponyville. Things had been rather hectic, after all, with the palace being turned upside down looking for Viperian assassins. Two had been unearthed, but one had escaped after killing the royal chef and the other had committed suicide rather than be captured by the Royal Guard.

Luna raised her head, looking up at the moon with sadness in her eyes. "Silvermane, we fear we are too good at matters of force. It is making us lose what little compassion we have left. Perhaps tonight was in folly after all."

"No, My Lady," the shadowmancer replied, shaking his head slowly. "Time heals all wounds, but scars take longer to fade. This will come to pass, even without Nightmare Night. But you must not give up hope, for if you do not actively try to reverse your infamy, it will take even longer...forgive me. I speak out of turn."

"No," Luna replied quickly, not wanting to shun Silvermane away. She glanced down at him, a look of worry on her face. "We-...I have no desire for you to leave simply for speaking your mind. Please...call me Luna."

Silvermane smiled up at her before slowly shaking his head. "I would not myself. My family line has been too dedicated to your cause to speak of you with anything but the highest of praise. My parents worshiped Nightmare Moon. But I see the real mare underneath...My Lady."

Luna smiled sadly, grateful for a distraction from her sorrows. "Then it is true. You are descended from Regulus Silvermane."

"Yes. One of your greatest supporters, My Lady," Silvermane replied, a sad smile on his muzzle as he turned to the bank of the river peering down into the water. "You already know the story, I'm afraid. Nightmare Moon announces her rebellion, and Equestria dives into their first civil war. Regulus Silvermane, the head of the Shadowmancer Enclave, promises his support."

"And they do unspeakable acts in her-my name," Luna finished, peering into the water as well. In the moonlight, their reflections shone back up at them, a stallion and an alicorn mare, both seemingly alone in this world. As if reading her thoughts, Silvermane glanced up at Luna, an expression of sympathy on his face. "My Lady, things may seem to get rough, and there may be some who do not believe in you. But know this; you do still have some honest supporters who do not wish evil as in Nightmare Moon's reign."

He glanced over his shoulder before he, with astonishing speed (as if he was trying to accomplish it before he talked himself out of the act) leaned forward and up, planting a gentle kiss on Luna's cheek. Astonished, the princess of the night could only stare down at Silvermane as the unicorn slowly backed away, standing on the water...no, he was using the shadows in the water to keep himself supported, and he wore a small, sad smile on his muzzle.

"I must go, My Lady. You will have, as you have always had, my everlasting support...and affection."

With that, Silvermane sunk into the water, disappearing in the shadows of the river, leaving Luna to stand there dumbfounded.

She almost wished she could go after him. More to escape the perils of the world and her own reputation, but there was some appeal in going with Silvermane himself. And that scared her just a little.

She was about to begin over the bridge and continue into the forest when she heard trotting hooves and jingling bells.

* * *

><p><span>Espionage Mission; Ponyville<span>

Codename: Muttahari

Assignment: Recon 'Elements of Harmony' and Ascertain Threat Level

Sub-Report: Shadow Cult

Report begins.

Throughout my time here in Ponyville, I have become more and more aware of several mysterious unicorns that have seemingly appeared and disappeared in the village, yet there is no mention of them in the town registrar. After watching them for some time, I have concluded that they are all of the same group, and have placed them under the term 'Shadow Cult' though this designation is most definitely not correct, as they do not appear particularly spiritual.

Instead, the Cult appears to be a collection of unicorns who practice some unique form of magic. I would have almost called them a club since they appear to have no leader, but tonight being Nightmare Night I was able to infiltrate the village proper and slip into the Police Station, woefully undermanned tonight. There, I have found numerous records of sightings pertaining to a silver-maned unicorn, who I believe to be their leader. This then, represents another unforeseen threat, as each unicorn has evaded both the Army troopers and their Military Police several times. While some can be chalked up to relative inexperience on the soldiers' parts, some of the instances point to a powerful and ancient form of magic, long since banned even in the most malicious of criminal mage circles.

Shadowmancy is the art of working shadows to one's desire. Outlawed after the Lunar Rebellion, it has become something of a warped thing in stories, and while it does carry large amounts of temptation and can kill much more easily than other forms of magic, I have determined that it is not, in and of itself, evil. However, it is another form of unicorn witchcraft we must watch out for.

Inform the members of Operation: Stiletto to be on the lookout for such magic.

Report ends.

* * *

><p>Well, this is it. Sorry it's a bit late, guys. For some reason, this one episode was particularly hard to write.<p>

And that's all I've got. I'll return, you can be sure of that. But for now, I say thank you. To everyone. You make me proud to write this story, and I hope SOPA doesn't shut down the ability to continue to do so before I return.

Best of luck, and I'll see you next time!

This is Warhorse, signing off.


End file.
